


Better Together

by adiwriting



Series: My Home [6]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Childhood Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-01-18 21:27:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 78,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12396564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adiwriting/pseuds/adiwriting
Summary: A collection of One-Shots set within the "My Home" verse





	1. I Wanna Dance with Somebody

**Author's Note:**

> Officially accepting prompts for drabbles and one-shots in this verse! Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place March 1997. A complete timeline of this series can be found here  
> ([Home Verse Timeline](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13304013))

Oliver watches Felicity from across the gymnasium and tries to contain his shock. She is dancing. She is  _ actually _ dancing. Normally, in situations like this, he has to drag her away from whatever book she’s reading and force her to socialize with others. When she’d told him yesterday that her mother was forcing her to go to the middle school dance, he’d assumed this would be another one of those situations. 

Yet there she is, dancing her little heart out. 

“I think you’ve got competition,” Tommy says to him, laughing as he punches him in the shoulder. 

“What?” Oliver asks, turning to look at his friend. He hasn’t been following the conversation. 

“Colton Thompson’s been watching Felicity for the past three songs. I don’t think he’s even blinked.”

Oliver glances over to where Colton is standing along with several other seventh graders who are currently working hard at holding up the wall. God forbid anyone see them attempt to dance and realize how awkward they are. Sure enough, Tommy is right. Colton is staring at Felicity like she’s a cold glass of water on a hot summer day. 

“She’s too good for him,” he says. “She’ll never go for him.” 

He tries not to be intimidated by the fact that a seventh grader is looking at her. As if competing against the rest of the boys in his grade for her affection isn’t bad enough, he doesn’t want to have to compete against older guys. 

“Oliver, just go ask her to dance,” Tommy says. 

“What? No,” he immediately shrugs off the suggestion. “I’m not good enough for her either.” 

“I swear to god, if I have to listen to you spend this entire dance complaining about Felicity dancing with another boy because you won’t grow a pair and ask her out, I’ll shoot myself,” Tommy groans. 

“Who’s going to ask her to dance?” Oliver asks, immediately scanning the room for anyone else that may be watching his best friends with less than innocent eyes. When he sees nobody else, he breathes a sigh of relief. He’s safe. For now. 

Tommy rolls his eyes. “Well, while you sit here and brood, I’m going to ask Bethany Reinman to dance.” 

Oliver watches as Tommy crosses the dance floor through the crowd of dancing eighth graders towards where the other 6th grade girls have congregated in a corner and are dancing by themselves. All the boys in their grade watch in awe as Tommy smoothly approaches Bethany and is pulling her onto the dance floor with barely a few words exchanged. 

Tonight is Oliver’s third middle school dance this year, and what he’s learned is this: 

The sixth graders don’t dance. The boys stand around in a corner talking about all the girls they want to ask to dance, but never will. The girls keep to the opposite corner and dance with each other, staying out of the way of the older and much more mature seventh and eighth grade girls. 

The seventh graders are split. The boys will come out to dance with the girls when a slow song comes on. They’ll do an awkward sway while there is enough space between them to fit a whole other person. But otherwise, they keep to the wall and try to act cool. Oliver knows it’s because not a single one of them has any sense of rhythm and they are not about to embarrass themselves on the dance floor. The seventh grade girls stay on the dance floor for the fast songs, then run out of the gym the second a slow song comes on. That is, unless they can’t seem to escape fast enough and one of the boys manages to get them to dance with them. The girls always look like dancing with the boys is a chore. Probably because they don’t appreciate their feet getting stepped on, or the fact that deodorant is apparently an optional thing. 

The eighth graders seem to have life figured out. They’ve coupled off and are no longer embarrassed or ashamed to be seen dancing. In fact, they dance a little bit too much. The chaperones spend the entirety of the dance saying things like “leave room for Jesus,” or “Have some respect.” 

And then there’s Tommy. Tommy is the only sixth grade boy who isn’t embarrassed to be seen dancing. He isn’t afraid to talk to the girls. Oliver’s envious. He wishes he were as smooth as Tommy was. Maybe then, he could figure out how to make this thing with Felicity work. 

“How does he do that?” Brentley asks in amazement. 

“I heard Tommy dated an older woman over the summer and that’s how he got so smooth,” Clint says. 

Oliver holds back a chuckle. Tommy did in fact date an older woman over the summer, but she was only older by a few months. Abigal Turner was one of the youngest kids in her grade and Tommy is one of the oldest. It’s not like he was dating Mrs. Robinson or anything. 

Besides, the most Tommy and Abby ever did was hold hands at the movies and attempt, according to Tommy, the most embarrassingly awkward kiss in history. 

Two more songs pass and Oliver’s attention once again drifts to Felicity. She’s moving her hips around and has her arms above her head with a big smile on her face. It doesn’t matter that none of the other girls are really dancing with her, she’s happy. It makes Oliver smile. She’s such a ray of light. 

It doesn’t help matters that she’s looking so pretty today in her 80’s getup. While most of the kids have gone for a 50’s greaser look, Felicity had chosen to go with something more colorful. Which is so like her. She’s wearing one of her mom’s old neon skirts with an off the shoulder T-shirt. Oliver’s embarrassed to say that seeing that little pop of shoulder does things for him. 

Why does his best friend have to be so pretty all of the time? His life would be so much less confusing if she were ugly. 

Oliver holds his breath as Colton finally starts to make his way towards her. Colton says something to her that has her blushing and giggling awkwardly like she does when she doesn’t know what to say. Her eyes scan the room and meet Oliver’s before turning back to Colton. 

Oliver’s fingernails dig into his palms as he waits to see what she’s going to do. Is she going to accept his offer? When he watches Colton walk away looking dejected, he closes his eyes and breathes out a sigh of relief. 

Without stopping to think about what he’s doing, he marches across the gymnasium and walks right up to Felicity. 

“Oliver! Hey!” she says with a smile warm enough to melt even the coldest heart. 

“Dance with me,” he says before he can lose his nerve. 

“What?” she asks, tilting her head up at him and looking adorably confused. 

“Dance with me,” he repeats, holding his hand out for hers. 

“You hate dancing,” she says. 

“I wouldn’t hate dancing with you,” he admits. 

Felicity shakes her head and giggles. It’s not her uncomfortable giggle, which is a good sign, but she’s also not saying yes, either. 

“You don’t have to dance with me to make me feel better about having to come,” she says. “But it’s sweet that you were willing to ask.” 

She thinks he’s only asking her to dance so that she won’t feel bad. She doesn’t realize that he’s asking her to dance because he just may be in love with her. 

And maybe that’s for the best. What the hell is he thinking anyways. Felicity and him together? That would be the worst idea in the world. She’s his best friend and he knows nothing about being a good boyfriend. He’ll screw it up somehow and then she’ll get hurt and never talk to him again. 

“Oh. Yeah,” is his only response. 

Felicity reaches out and grabs his hand. A small shiver runs up his spine at the touch, despite the high temperature in the gym. 

“What do you say we sneak out of here early and go grab some ice cream down the street?” she says, biting her lip in the way he’s recently discovered he likes very much. That very expression has been featured often in some rather new and exciting dreams he’s been having lately. 

“Are you suggesting we break the rules?” he says with a gasp of surprise. 

“You’re a bad influence,” she teases, bumping into him playfully. 

She’s teasing, but he often worries about how true that statement really is. 

“Come on,” she says. “Be my knight in shining armour and help me find a scoop of mint chip. I know you know the best way to sneak out of here so we don’t get caught.” 

Oliver glances around the gymnasium and considers his options. He could stay here and stand around with the rest of the guys while they try to figure out how to talk to girls, or he could leave with the only girl that will ever really matter to him. 

The decision isn’t hard. 

“Come on,” he says, tugging on her hand as he begins to lead her through the crowd of eighth graders that have started doing some elaborate line dance. “There’s an exit door through the locker rooms that the teachers aren’t monitoring.” 

“My hero,” she says with zero amount of teasing and the words make his stomach fill with butterflies. 

He eyes Tommy sending him an amused grin on their way out and just for a second, he pretends that her hand is in his because she likes him as much as he likes her. Just for a second he lets himself imagine that he’s her boyfriend, and he breaks out into an uncontrollably goofy grin. 

“You’re a good friend, Oliver,” she says into his ear as he sneaks her past one of the teachers and into the men’s locker room. 

And just like that, the fantasy is broken and his goofy grin slips away. Felicity will never be his, but that’s okay. She’ll be his best friend, and that’s enough. 

At least, he tries to convince himself, that will always be enough. 

 


	2. Her First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver is not too happy to hear what Felicity's been up to at college, and it's all Tommy can do to control him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place November 2002. A complete timeline of this series can be found here  
> ([Home Verse Timeline](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13304013))

Tommy lays on Oliver’s couch as he watches the twins dance together in front of him. Oliver passes him the joint as he leans over close, “Which one do you want?” he asks. 

Tommy tilts his head and studies the girls. They are nearly identical. The only way to tell them apart is that Bethany has a birthmark just above her hip that Bridget doesn’t have. He shrugs. He’s already been with both girls separately on different occasions and had no complaints about either. He knows, no matter who he ends up with, he’s in for a good night. 

“Let’s let them choose,” he says. 

“Last time we did that, they suggested a foursome,” Oliver says with a laugh. 

Tommy eyes Oliver up and down suggestively, trying to get a rise out of his friend. 

“You wish, Merlyn,” Oliver says with a blush. “I need to have a threesome before I even think about a foursome.” 

It’s probably the joint talking, but Tommy is pretty sure Oliver just implied he’d be down for a foursome at some point. Interesting. Tommy’s never considered having sex with a man before, let alone Oliver. He didn’t think Oliver would have either. 

He’s tempted to push the line and see if he can get a confession out of his friend, but Oliver’s cellphone rings and Tommy rolls his eyes knowing exactly who it is. 

Felicity. 

The only girl who could ever get Oliver Queen to leave his bedroom when there are two women dancing in lingerie standing in front of them. 

“Is he leaving?” Bethany asks with a pout. 

What is he? Chopped liver?

“You’re breaking my heart here,” he says, miming getting stabbed in the heart. 

“Aww,” Bridget says with a flirty smile. “Is somebody feeling a little bit left out?” 

Bridget crawls into his lap and starts kissing his neck as Bethany continues to dance in front of him. 

Tommy smiles. If Oliver wants to go running every time Felicity calls, he won’t complain. After all, Felicity is good for Oliver. She’s wife material even if she is a nerd. And Oliver’s obsession with Felicity certainly benefits him, he thinks as Bethany moves around to the back of the couch so she can lean over and kiss the other side of Tommy’s neck. 

Tommy’s just convinced the girls to get up and join him in his bedroom across the hall when Oliver comes stomping back into the room in a complete rage and Tommy’s cellphone goes off in his pocket. 

It takes him a minute to get untangled from the girls as he pulls his phone out of his pocket and watches Oliver storm into his closet and slam the door. He should follow after him and see what happened. But he looks down at his phone and sees Felicity’s calling him and he knows that whatever’s happened with Oliver, it has to be bad if Felicity is calling him. They aren’t friends. They are friendly enough to have each other’s phone numbers, but they don’t talk to each other unless they are trying to plan something for Oliver. 

“Girls, go wait in my room, I’ll be over in a few minutes,” he dismisses the twins and waits for them to walk out the door before answering the phone. 

“What happened?” he asks in lieu of a greeting. 

“You have to stop him,” Felicity says. “He’s planning on coming here, and he can’t.” 

“What happened,” he repeats slowly. Felicity has a tendency to talk a lot without ever actually getting her point out. It’s one of the qualities that annoys him while Oliver finds it endearing. Oliver finds everything about her endearing. 

“I told Oliver I had sex tonight,” she says, awkwardly. 

Tommy’s eyes fly to the closet where he hears things being thrown around. Yeah, Felicity having sex would completely explain this. 

“When did you get a boyfriend?” Tommy asks. He’s sure that’s something Oliver would have ranted about before tonight. Tommy hasn’t heard anything about this. 

“I haven’t…” she says, which causes Tommy’s eyebrows to raise in shock. Felicity’s never seemed like the kind of girl to have a one night stand. 

“Wow,” he says. “I guess it’s true what they say… Innocent girls really do go wild in college.” 

“Tommy,” she says, clearly annoyed if her sigh is any indication. “Can you just talk to him?” 

“Pretty sure there will be no talking him off this ledge,” he says. “Why would you tell him you had sex?” 

“I didn’t want to tell him,” she exclaims. “He asked me why I was crying and I’ve never been good at lying to him.” 

“You were crying?” he asks, instantly red flags start to go up. “Wait… Did somebody force themselves on you?” 

Tommy stands up, ready to go pack a bag of his own and join Oliver on his trip to Boston. Felicity may not be his friend, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to stand by while somebody takes advantage of her. She’s 17 on a college campus, for Christ’s sake. No wonder Oliver is furious. 

“No!” she huffs. “It was just bad sex. Can everyone stop acting like I’m some damsel in distress that needs to have her honor defended. I’m fine.” 

Tommy takes a minute to process her words. Bad sex. 

Interesting. He’s heard about it. In passing. He’s never experienced it, himself, obviously. But then again, he’s been fortunate enough to have slept with some experienced women that have taught him the way around the female body. 

“Bad sex,” he says. “Did he not prepare you properly? He’s gotta get to at least three fingers and five minutes before you let him inside, Smoak. That’s the rule.” 

She sighs. “I’m not talking about this with you, Merlyn. Can you just make sure that Oliver doesn’t show up and beat this poor guy up? He didn’t do anything wrong except have the decency to look at me like an actual person not some carrier of the plague.” 

“Plague, huh?” he asks. “Things really that bad there?” 

“I’m a 17 year old who looks 12 on a college campus,” she says. “What do you think?” 

“I think you look at least 16,” he says. “After all, your boobs came in freshman year and the rest will follow eventually.” 

“Tommy,” she says his name like she’s debating saying a curse word instead. “I’m going to hang up now. Just keep him off a plane. He got in enough trouble the last time he missed his finals to fly to Vegas. I don’t need him flying to Boston.” 

“I’ll keep him off a plane if you answer me one question,” he says. 

“What?” 

“Why did you sleep with this guy?” he asks, genuinely curious. He really never saw her as a girl who would sleep with somebody outside of a relationship. And he has a sinking suspicion why she’s started sleeping around, but wants to hear it from her. 

“I was sick of people looking at me like… that,” she says, and he imagines she’s probably blushing. 

“Like what?” he says, wanting to hear her admit it. 

“Like the girl next door,” she says. “Or like some piece of glass that can never be touched. I wanted people to see me as an option.” 

“You wanted Oliver to see you as an option,” he fills in the blanks for her. 

“That’s not what I said,” she argues, but it’s really pointless. 

Tommy has been watching this song and dance for long enough to have all of the words memorized. Honestly, if Felicity hadn’t moved to Vegas back in middle school and they weren’t quite so insecure about each other, they’d probably be married by now. Instead, they both end up playing with each other’s emotions in pointless attempts to get the other’s attention. He knows neither of them do it intentionally, but they still do it and it got old around sophomore year. 

“You didn’t have to sleep with somebody to get him to notice you,” he tells her. “He notices you enough as it is. Why else would he be in such a rage right now?” 

“Because he thinks Jeremy took advantage of me,” she says, pointedly. He’s been telling her for years that Oliver likes her, but she never believes him. 

“Fine,” he says as Oliver comes out of the closet with a packed suitcase and a face full of rage. “But promise me next time feel a need to get laid, you’ll call me. At least I’ll make sure it’s good for you, Smoak. Nobody deserves bad sex.” 

Oliver storms over to him and yanks the phone out of his hand. 

“No,” Oliver says to him, pointing a warning finger in his direction. “Felicity is off limits.” 

Oliver puts the phone to his ear and says, “Tommy is off limits. No more sex for you.” 

Tommy can hear Felicity’s sass from here, even if he can’t necessarily make out every word. She’s never been one to let Oliver boss her around. He’s pretty sure that’s half of her appeal. Oliver can get virtually anything he wants. The world falls at his feet thanks to his last name. But Felicity Smoak has never cared about his name or his money. She’s the only person on this planet that has ever told Oliver no and had him listen. Even Moira hasn’t ever accomplished that, and Oliver’s a momma’s boy. 

“Well fine!” Oliver yells. “Sleep with whoever you want! I don’t care!” 

Tommy snorts. Oliver’s words would be way more convincing if he wasn’t literally shaking in anger. He hangs up the phone and throws it against the wall, shattering it to pieces. Tommy groans. 

“That was mine, jackass,” he says. 

“Can you believe her?!” Oliver exclaims, completely ignoring the fact that he’s just destroyed Tommy’s cell. Tommy rolls his eyes. Typical Oliver. He’s always had tunnel vision when it comes to Felicity. 

“That she had sex?” Tommy asks. “It was bound to happen. She’s hot. In a nerdy kind of way.” 

Oliver growls at Tommy and he has to literally bite back a smirk. If he has to spend the rest of his life listening to Oliver whine about Felicity, he’s going to have his fun. Tommy gets immense joy out of hitting on Felicity to get a rise out of Oliver. 

“Listen, she’s in college now,” he says, more seriously this time when he can see that no amount of teasing is going to calm Oliver down. “She’s going to have sex. We’re not even in college and we’re having sex. If you’re going to keep your head up your ass and continue to not ask her out, you can’t complain if she sleeps with other guys.” 

“But the guy she slept with is a total asshole!” Oliver complains. “She was crying when she called me!  _ Crying _ !” 

“Bad sex happens,” Tommy says. “It doesn’t mean he forced her.” 

Oliver stares at him, unconvinced. And even Tommy can’t argue with him. Really, it hadn’t been his best argument. 

“Okay, so bad sex really shouldn’t ever happen,” Tommy admits. “But it did. Clearly the guy didn’t know what he was doing. That sucks for her. But try to look on the bright side…” 

“The bright side,” he says, unamused. 

“When you two finally do it, you’ll look like a sex god,” Tommy says with a wink causing Oliver to groan. “Just promise me you won’t do anything stupid tonight, like fly to Boston.” 

“Why not?” Oliver says. “This Jermey kid needs his ass handed to him.” 

“Because  _ you’ll _ look like the ass and Felicity won’t forgive you,” he says. The last thing Tommy needs is for Felicity to stop talking to Oliver. Then Oliver will brood the entire time, and that’s never fun for either of them. “You need to let this go.” 

“So I’m supposed to just forget about it?” he scoffs. “People need to know they can’t mess with her. That she’s got powerful friends that will make their life a living hell if they do.” 

“That’s the last thing she needs,” Tommy says. “It sounds like she’s having trouble fitting in as it is being so young. Don’t make things any harder for her than they already are. If you love her like you say you do, let it go.” 

Oliver huffs and Tommy can see he’s not convinced. They are about to have another Vegas Incident on their hands. 

“Oliver,” Tommy says. “Please. I’m telling you this as your friend: If you go out there, you will regret it. Felicity will get mad and won’t talk to you for weeks and you’ll be even more miserable than you are now. Let it go.” 

Oliver doesn’t respond right away, but Tommy can tell by the set of his shoulders that Oliver has accepted — albeit reluctantly — that he’s right. 

“I can’t believe she’s having sex,” Oliver grumbles. 

“Me neither,” Tommy says. “I thought she’d be a virgin until at least 25. I mean, to have sex you actually have to leave the library.” 

“She met Jeremy in a library,” Oliver says with a glare. 

“No shit!” Tommy laughs. “Guess that’s what happens when you pick a nerd school.” 

Oliver tosses his suitcase back towards the closet and lays down on his bed. “Do you think he was smart?” he asks. 

Tommy sits down on the edge of the bed. “This Jeremy kid? Probably. He goes to MIT with her.” 

“I’m not smart.” 

Tommy can hear what Oliver isn’t saying. After all, it’s not the first time Tommy has had to reassure Oliver that he’s good enough. For as much as Oliver plays the cocky playboy, he really is deeply insecure a majority of the time. 

“She knows everything about you and still loves you,” Tommy says. “I wouldn’t worry so much. You two not being together isn’t because of this Jeremy kid. It’s because you won’t ask her out.” 

Oliver rolls his eyes. “The twins are waiting for you. If you take too long, they’ll get bored and start without you.” 

Tommy takes that as his cue to leave. Oliver is clearly done with this conversation and Tommy won’t get anything else out of him. He’s kept him from getting on a plane, which is more than he thought he’d accomplish. He’ll take the win and won’t press his luck.

“Sure you don’t want to join us?” Tommy asks with a teasing wink. “I don’t know if you’ve heard the rumors, but I’m pretty good in the sack.” 

Oliver throws a pillow at his head and Tommy ducks out of the way with a laugh. 

“I’ll send Bethany in,” Tommy says. “You clearly need a pick me up.” 

“You could be a real friend and send them both in,” Oliver says with a smirk, causing Tommy to roll his eyes. 

“Not a chance,” he laughs. 


	3. Mourning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Tommy returns from Hong Kong, Felicity and he are forced to face the reality that Oliver is really gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings, this chapter contains some drug use. If that's something you don't want to read about, I'd skip this installment.
> 
> This chapter takes place October 2009. A complete timeline of this series can be found here  
> ([Home Verse Timeline](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13304013))

The club music pulses loudly as their friends dance around them, but Tommy can’t bring himself to get off the sofa. Apparently, neither can Felicity. He’s been back from Hong Kong for three days and still, neither of them are willing to process the fact that Oliver is gone. 

A week ago, Felicity had received an alert that Oliver’s email account had been logged into and they were both convinced that they’d finally found him. It had been all he could do to convince Felicity to stay back in the states while he went after Oliver. She’d just been promoted to the Head of the IT Department and people were still questioning if she was qualified. She really couldn't afford to take the time off.

When he’d been kidnapped and told that it had all been a ploy to extort money out of the Queen family, he’d been devastated. Felicity had been… Well, if Tommy thought she’d been bad when the Gambit first went down, it was nothing compared to the breakdown she’d had when he returned without Oliver. 

It’s been three days and things haven’t gotten better or easier. If anything, they’ve gotten worse. The sliver of hope they’d been living with had been crushed out and now they are both going to have to learn to live in this new reality of theirs. 

A reality where Oliver Queen isn’t just lost at sea, but actually dead. 

So booze had seemed like an appropriate response. Tommy had picked out a pretty dress for Felicity and convinced her to come drown her sorrows with him. 

She passes him the nearly empty bottle of vodka that they’ve been sharing. They’d forgone the use of glasses an hour ago. If there was an IV available to inject the liquor straight into their bloodstream, they would have opted for that. Anything to get drunker faster. Because right now everything is still too much and it needs to stop. Tommy’s entire world stopped the moment he realized he wasn’t going to find Oliver in Hong Kong. So he doesn’t understand how everyone else’s continues to turn. 

Don’t they know that Oliver is dead? Don’t they care?

Tommy takes another swig from the bottle and holds it out for Felicity to take.  

“You finished it,” she whines, pushing it back towards him. 

He looks down at the bottle and frowns. Shouldn’t he be feeling the effects of this already?

“Go get another one,” Felicity commands, pointing at the private bar a few feet away. 

Tommy grumbles about how bossy she is, but ends up standing up and heading to the bar anyway. He may not like her ordering him around, but he is still a gentleman and he’s not going to make her pay for her drinks when he’d been the one to invite her out. 

“Hey, stranger,” Jessica says, sliding up to him at the bar. 

“Hey,” he says, without much enthusiasm. It’s not that he doesn’t like Jessica. He does. They’d dated on and off in high school. Well… Dated may be a loose term for what they did. Mostly they fucked on and off throughout school whenever she was between boyfriends. So it’s not her. He’s just not in the mood for socializing tonight. Not without a significantly greater blood alcohol volume. 

Or maybe something stronger. He knows he promised Felicity he’d take his sobriety seriously this time, but she can’t honestly expect him to stay clean after Hong Kong. 

“How’ve you been?” Jess asks, pressing herself up against him in a way that would usually have him incredibly interested, but… nothing. He’s too far into his head for any blood flow to be going to his dick. 

He shrugs. There’s really no good way for him to answer that question that wouldn’t totally kill the mood. And he didn’t come here so everyone else would get depressed with him. He’d come here looking to escape his depression. 

“You look like you could use a pick me up,” she says with a sympathetic smile. “I recognize that look from high school. Come find me if you want a private dance.” 

She shimmies her shoulders suggestively and kisses his cheek before walking away from him, giving him time to watch her walk away. He alway did like her. They had fun together. It’s a shame she was obsessed with Gavin Evergreen, or Tommy thinks they could have actually been a pretty good couple at some point. 

Tommy grabs another bottle of vodka from the bartender and heads back to the couch to sit down with Felicity. 

“What did Jessica want?” she asks, taking the bottle from him and opening it herself before taking a long swig from it. 

“A private dance,” he says. 

“You should go,” Felicity says, her voice sounding as lifeless as he feels. 

He just shrugs, not bothering to even come up with an excuse for why he has no interest in standing up and joining the party. 

“It might make you feel better,” she says. “I know you’ve always liked her. Maybe you’d forget for a little bit.” 

Tommy shrugs, taking a long drink of his own. “Maybe later.” 

He isn’t sure he’ll be able to get it up right now. Though, he has to admit, Felicity has a point. Sex always has a way of helping him forget, even if it’s fleeting. And he’ll do anything to escape the overwhelmingly crushing feeling of guilt and loneliness. 

They sit there until they’ve made their way through half of the second bottle and the effects finally start kicking in. 

He knows they’re kicking in for Felicity as well because she’s started slurring her speech. He teases her for it and so she shoves at his shoulder. 

“Go,” she complains. “Go seep… sleep with Jessica. Don-wan you here.” 

She shoves at his shoulder again until he stands up. 

“Fine, fine,” he says with a chuckle. “I’ll be back later.” 

He may be feeling the effects of the booze, but he’s had a lot of practice in speaking somewhat coherently when drunk. 

“Don’t leave without me,” he says, giving her a pointed look. 

Felicity has a tendency to sneak out of clubs without telling him. He always finds her back home passed out in her bed with an episode of whatever lame sci fi show she’s currently into, but he hates that she leaves clubs alone. He’ll especially hate it if she leaves tonight alone. She’s too drunk to get home safely. 

“Look after her,” Tommy says to his friend Charlie as he moves across the room towards where Jess is currently dancing with a few of her friends. 

Charlie gives him a nod, the universal agreement between bros. Tommy trusts that nobody in this room will let anything happen to Felicity, or he wouldn’t be leaving. Everyone here has been friends since their Starling Prep days and it’s been a long known rule that nobody messes with Felicity out of respect for Oliver. 

Tommy smiles at Jess’s friends, who quickly make themselves scarce. 

“That offer for a private dance still good?” he asks. 

“For you?” she smiles, playing with the buttons on his shirt. “Always.” 

Jessica takes his hand and walks him out of the private room they’ve all taken over at the club to choruses of “Get it, Merlyn!” and catcalls from their friends. 

Thankfully, Jess’s never been one to embarrass easily. She simply flicks them all off and walks him down the hall towards another smaller, unoccupied private room. 

“I didn’t see you at the Homecoming game last week,” she says with a pout, referring to the big game their old high school had had. 

Typically, they all get together to tailgate before the game and have a mini-reunion. Tommy hadn’t been able to attend because he was in Hong Kong… Something he really doesn’t want to talk about right now. Not while he’s just starting to feel numb from the alcohol. 

“Couldn’t make it,” he says. 

“It’s a shame,” she says with a playful pout. “I was hoping to relive our graduation night.” 

Tommy instantly has an image of the two of them sneaking into the school after hours and having some pretty epic sex in the girls locker room. It brings a smile to his face, despite the awful mood he’s been in. 

“That was a memorable night,” he says with a laugh as he slips a considerable amount of cash to the bouncer guarding the entrance to the smaller room. Enough cash to buy them entrance, privacy, and silence. He’s learned years ago to payoff people in advance unless he wants his exploits to end up in the tabloids. 

“You know that night ruined me for other men,” she says, stepping through the curtain and he follows after her. “I actually should be really angry at you for that.” 

He reaches out and grabs her hips, pulling her into him. “Or you could skip the anger and agree to recreate that night again.” 

She hums happily as he begins mouthing his way down her neck. 

She pushes away from him and moves further into the room, swaying her hips to the beat of the music. 

“Dance with me,” she says with a shy smile, as if there’s actually a shy bone in her body. 

He moves closer to her and closes his eyes, forcing himself to move to the beat of the music. He’s played this game enough over the last few years to know how it goes. If he just forces Oliver out of his mind and focuses all of his attention on the beautiful woman in front of him, he can make it all disappear for awhile. 

She turns around so her back is against him and grinds him until he starts to feel the twinge of excitement grow. She takes her hands and places them on her breasts. 

After that, instinct takes over and all thoughts of anything but the here and now slip away as he loses himself to the comfort and pleasure of an old flame’s body. 

Once they’ve both gotten off and Jess is pulling her skirt down and slipping her underwear into his pocket, it all comes back though. Sex is good for a temporary release. A half hour or so of mindless bliss, but it never lasts. 

If he wants a more lasting high, he’s going to have to break a promise to Felicity. 

“Come find me later if you’re still feeling down,” she says, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I’ll make sure you get home safe.” 

It’s an old inside joke of theirs. What he used to tell her whenever he wanted to come over to her house for sex. 

“I bet you will,” he says with what he hopes is an easy laugh, not wanting her to worry about him anymore than she clearly already is. But if the look she gives him and the extra hug are any indication, he fails miserably at looking cheerful. 

Tommy lets her leave and takes a few minutes to clean himself up before following her out. The bouncer smiles at him knowingly when he steps back into the hall. Tommy sends him a wink, not really up to engaging in some kind of locker room talk about what just happened. Tommy’s never been one to brag about his conquests no matter how much his classmates pushed him. The only person he ever shared that stuff with was Oliver… and now he’s gone. 

He takes a deep breath to hold back the onslaught of pain. The sex was nice. A temporary escape. But the orgasm also washed out his buzz and now everything is too real. Too close. He needs something else. 

He looks towards the bathrooms. He could head there and see if anyone is selling anything good. There’s always a few dealers hanging around and one of them is bound to have something he can lose himself in. However, he decides against it. He can get high another day when he doesn’t have Felicity with him. As good as a tab of Molly or a few lines of coke would be, he can survive another night without it. 

After all, he’d made a promise to Oliver to protect Felicity and he's not going to go back on it now just because Oliver is gone. If anything, he has more of a duty to protect her now that Oliver is gone. 

With one last longing look towards the bathrooms, he turns and walks back towards the room his friends commandeered for the night. The first thing he notices is that there is a blonde woman who looks suspiciously like Felicity dancing on top of the table and nearly every eye is on her. He’s stunned. There’s no way that the girl who’s currently barefoot, hair down, and swaying to the beat is his best friend. Felicity has never been a dancing on the tables kind of girl, even before Oliver died. 

“Tommy!” Felicity cries out, turning around to see him. She opens her arms wide, a clear invitation that she wants him to join her. 

The wide smile on her face is a far cry from the depressed girl he’d left a little bit ago. 

He had only been gone a half-hour, right? He checks his watch for the time, but since he can’t remember what time he left with Jess, it’s pointless. Still, they couldn’t have been having sex  _ that _ long. He gives it forty-five minutes at most. After all, it had taken him longer to come tonight than it usually does. 

“Tommy,” Felicity says again, stomping her foot. “Come!” 

He rolls his eyes at being summoned like a dog, but steps up to the table anyway, intent on helping her down. But she tugs on his arm until he joins her on the table. 

“You okay, Smoak?” he asks, trying to see her face, but it’s a struggle. Currently, she’s moving her head back and forth to the beat too quickly to see. Especially now that her hair has been pulled out of it’s signature ponytail. 

“M feeling gooooood,” she says with a giggle that most certainly doesn’t sound right. Felicity may be a happy drunk most days, but neither of them have a reason to be happy today. It seems highly unlikely that her mood picked up that quickly, even if she’s nearly finished the half bottle he’d left her with. 

If it were anyone else, he would suspect drugs, but this is Felicity. 

She spins around and nearly falls off the table, but Tommy grabs onto her wrist and pulls her back before she can. 

“My hero!” she exclaims, pulling him in for a hug. “Ollllie was my hero, bu-h’s gone.” 

And that’s even more odd. Felicity has never once in her life called Oliver ‘Ollie.’ And the fact that she’s mentioning his name at all without crying is unlikely. 

Tommy grabs onto her face to stop her from moving for a second so he can see her. A second is all it takes to notice her pupils are dilated, and he’s seriously confused. 

“You took something?” he asks, assuming that he has to be seeing things. 

Felicity has never done drugs before. There had been an incident back in college with a pot brownie that resulted in Oliver rushing her to the ER with an allergic reaction, but she’s never done real drugs before. She’s always lectured him about using them to cover up his pain. So why would she take something now? It doesn’t make any sense. 

“Yep,” she says, and the ‘p’ has an extra pop to it, leaving little doubt that she’s certainly on something. He just isn’t sure what, yet. LSD? Coke? Molly? 

“What did you take?” he asks, scanning the room for any known dealers. 

He doesn’t see anyone. Everyone here is a friend and not into dealing. He also can’t see anyone here giving her anything. After all, they know she’s off limits. Maybe she’d gone to the bathroom and been offered something there? 

Felicity shrugs and removes his hands from her face so she can keep dancing. “Don’t knowwwwwwwwww,” she says, drawing out her words like it’s a song. 

She goes to uncap the bottle of vodka, but he pulls it out of her hands and tosses it onto the couch. Until he knows what she’s taken, she’s not adding anything else to the cocktail moving through her veins. 

Fuck. Felicity doesn’t do drugs. She has no idea what she’s taken. It’s not like she has the experience to be able to tell the difference between the stuff that makes you fly and the stuff that kills you. 

“Who did you get it from?” he asks, intent on tracking down whoever she’d gotten the drugs from so he can find out what she’d taken. 

And maybe take some as well, the dark part of his mind screams out but he pushes that thought down. He most certainly can’t get high now. He’s got to take care of Felicity. 

“OH!” she exclaims, suddenly stopping her dancing to jump up and down while she claps excitedly. “Did you get off with Jessica?” she says loudly, causing him to cover her mouth as everyone who had stopped paying attention to them about the time Tommy jumped up on the table with her, turns to look at them again. 

“Inside voice,” he says. 

She giggles. “Ssssorrrryyyy,” she attempts to whisper, but fails miserably. “Wa-she goo’? She’s pretty. Like, rrrrrreally pretty. I always wan’ed her hair in mid-chool. I think Ol’ver liked her, but you got her first.” 

“Oliver liked  _ you _ in middle school,” he reminds her, and the words bring a smile to her face. 

“I liked Ol’ver too,” she says. “I shoul’ve told ‘em. He di’t know I ‘ove him. Now he’s dead.” 

She says the words and he knows that they cause her immense pain, but the drugs running through her system don’t allow her to show that. Her face is blank. 

“Brett,” she says. 

“What?” he asks, not following the jump in conversation. Clearly this is payback for all the times she had to deal with his high ass. 

“He gave me… just a little,” she says with a serene smile holding up her fingers to show him the size of whatever she took. “Go home, now?” 

Tommy sees red. What the hell is Brett Westwick doing giving Felicity anything in the first place? 

“Fucking asshole,” he grumbles, stepping off the table. 

He’s about to go pound the shit out of Brett when Felicity steps off after him and he’s forced to catch her before she twists anything. She wraps her arms around his waist and rests her head on his shoulder, forcing him to decide if he’s going to stay with her or go and kick Brett’s ass. He knows which one he wants to do, but he also knows which one he has to do. 

Tommy takes several deep breaths and tries to center himself. 

Felicity isn’t hurt. Nobody has touched her. She’s just high. 

And really, does he have any room to talk? He’s gotten high more than enough times in his life that he can’t really judge her. Hell, he’d debated getting high tonight to escape it all. And if anyone could use a good high, it’s Felicity. 

Still, he has a sinking feeling that Brett hadn’t given Felicity the drugs as a kind favor. 

Which only drives home the fact that he really shouldn’t leave her side. 

“I feel like ‘m floating,” she says, pulling away from him and moving towards the couch. “This what you ‘lways feel like?” 

Tommy rubs his face in frustration as he tries not to read too much into things before he has a reason to. After all, he’s not Oliver. He doesn’t assume that everyone is always out to do her harm without actual proof. Maybe Brett really had just given her the drugs because she looked like she needed a pick me up. He grabs the bottle he’d previously tossed off the couch and downs the rest of it before sighing deeply. 

“Yeah, it is,” he admits.

“Doessssn’t forget,” she says, shaking her head. 

“What?” he asks, sitting next to her, and chuckling to himself when she lays her head down in his lap and takes his hand and puts it on her head, signalling that she would like him to play with her hair. 

“Thought you didit to for’et,” she says. “I still ‘member. Still hurts. Just can’t cry. Why can’t I cry?” 

Tommy shakes his head as he brushes his hands through her hair. She’s right. Drugs never make it disappear entirely. He’s never been high enough to forget Oliver. It just makes it more bearable. It take the pain and forces it back behind a wall that he can’t quite access. He always knows it’s there, but it doesn’t pull him under like it usually does. It’s not the perfect relief, but it’s as close as he’s ever found. 

“Oh!” Felicity says, shooting up from the couch, excitedly. “Le’s go to planetarium!” 

Tommy can’t help but smile in amusement. She has no idea just how similar Oliver and her are sometimes. It’s one of the best and worst things about her. She’s a constant reminder of him. Felicity probably has no idea of the dejavu he’s feeling right now. 

Their freshman year, Oliver and Tommy had been getting high in the basement and Oliver was still sad about Felicity moving to Vegas the year before. They’d both been about to fall asleep when Oliver had jumped up and convinced Tommy to break into the planetarium with him. They both got drunk together under the stars while Oliver talked about how much he loved Felicity and Tommy talked about how much he missed his mom. They’d been arrested, sure, but it had been worth it to see Oliver smile again. 

“You’re such a nerd,” he says, pulling her back down on the couch. “We aren’t breaking into the planetarium. You aren’t getting a criminal record thanks to me. I’m a bad enough influence as it is.” 

“Chicken,” she grumbles. 

He puts his arm around her shoulders and pulls her to him and starts to debate heading home. He isn’t sure how much longer the drugs will be in her system, but once they run their course, she’ll be passed out and he doesn’t want to have to carry her to the car in that state. She’ll be dead weight. 

“Let’s head out,” he says at the same time she says, “Dance with me?” 

He looks down at her and she’s biting her lip looking too sexy for her own good. And for a second, he knows exactly how she’d twisted Oliver around her little finger. Because he can see it. Even though he knows she’s not offering to dance with him in the same way girls like Jessica offer, he still imagines it. 

And god does that make him an asshole. He knows it. He doesn’t even like her like that. Really, he doesn’t. She’s his friend. His best friend. But there’s always that very tiny part of him that wonders… If he were to hook up with Felicity, would it help him feel closer to Oliver? 

But as quickly as that thought pops into his head, it’s thankfully gone. Dead or not, Tommy would never do that to Oliver. And he never wants to risk his friendship with Felicity, either. She’s currently the only person in his life that he can go to with everything. Logically, he knows he has the Queens. That Moira and Thea would be there for him, because they consider him one of their own. But it’s not the same. He always feels like he can’t burden them with his pain. They are just barely managing their own pain. 

“Please?” she begs and he finds himself agreeing against his better judgement. 

“If we’re going dancing, you need to put your shoes on,” he says, waving a waitress down to get him another drink. If he is going to stay awhile, he’s going to need to get his buzz back. 

“Shoes hurt,” she complains. 

“I can’t promise you they ever clean the floors out there,” he says. 

Felicity looks down at the floor and grimaces. “Do’they clean these floors?” she asks, sounding horrified. 

Tommy doesn’t want to tell her that it’s very unlikely. He’ll probably get a lecture from her even though she’s the one that took her shoes off, not him. So he lies. 

“I’m sure they mop back here,” he says. “After all, we pay a lot of money for these rooms.” 

She squints at him, studying him closely before her face breaks out in a big smile. “Okay! Help me find my shoes!” 

Tommy looks around for her shoes. He sees one poking out from under the couch and figures the other one has to be under there as well. He leans down and locates both of them. 

“You found my shoes!” she exclaims, holding her foot out for him. 

“Put your own shoes on, Smoak,” he says with a laugh. “I’m not your servant.” 

“Tommy,” she says, sticking her bottom lip out. “Please?” 

He rolls his eyes and helps her back into her heels. Once her shoes are on, he stands up and helps her to her feet. She hugs him. “Thank you.” 

He’s learning that Felicity is very affectionate when she’s high… Another thing she has in common with Oliver. The waitress returns with his drink and he downs it in a matter of seconds. Yes, if he’s going to keep thinking of Oliver, he needs more drinks. 

He’s about to order another round when Felicity starts tugging on his hand and pulling him towards the door. He figures he can get a drink from the main bar, and lets her lead them towards the main floor. 

The two of them dance together for several songs and Tommy slips the shot girl a hundred dollar tip to keep the shots coming. It doesn’t take him long to get his pleasant buzz back, and only a few songs more to reach the point that he can start to forget. 

“Isn’t she so much better like this?” Ashton asks as a several of their friends leave their room to join them on the main floor. He puts his arm around Felicity from behind and pulls her back against him. “Dance with me, sweetheart.” 

Tommy’s skin crawls at the way Ashton says ‘sweetheart.’ He has an urge to deck him, hard. And if Felicity’s face is any indication, she’s likely about to deck him as well. 

“She was fine how she was,” Tommy says, reaching out to pull Felicity back into his arms so Ashton is no longer touching her. 

“All depressed?” Ashton says with a laugh. “Where’s the fun in that. I thought you told us to take care of her?” 

Tommy glares at him. “Not like that.” 

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” she says, her speech a bit more clear. She must be starting to sober up. Good. Because Tommy’s most certainly not sober anymore. 

“Smoaky, tell your boy Tommy to call off the dogs,” Ashton says. “He doesn’t have to play bodyguard anymore. Oliver’s been dead for 3 years. You’re fair game.” 

Tommy sees red. He doesn’t hear Felicity’s retort. He doesn’t hear anything past Ashton calling Felicity fair game. He punches him square in the nose. 

“Tommy!” Felicity yells, but he ignores her and punches Ashton again. 

He’s grabbed from behind and thrown back as Brett, Ashton’s best friend and a former member of the USC football team, begins punching him in the stomach. 

Tommy pulls a bottle out of a bystander’s hands and knocks Brett in the head with it until he stumbles backwards. 

“Fuck you, Merlyn!” Ashton yells. 

“Fuck you!” Tommy yells back. “Your friend dies and so you think it’s okay to ply his girlfriend with drugs?!” 

“Oliver was never her boyfriend, was he sugar?” Brett asks, turning to Felicity. 

“Don’t look at her!” Tommy yells, throwing out another punch. 

The next several minutes are a flurry of fists and kicks as they all end up on the ground in a pile, beating the crap out of each other. 

It’s not until several bouncers pull them apart that they stop. And even then, it’s not for lack of effort. Tommy continues to try to kick and throw punches as the bouncer drags him further away from Brett and Ashton. 

Felicity follows after him as he’s thrown into what appears to be an office. 

“You’re not kicking me out?” Tommy asks the bouncer bitterly. 

“So you can go and continue your fight in the street and get yourself killed?” the bouncer asks. “We’d rather not have that kind of publicity. You can sober up in here and then you’re going home.” 

“Thank you,” Felicity tells the bouncer. “I have it from here. Could you get us some ice?” 

The bouncer nods and leaves. 

“I could fucking kill them!” he yells in frustration. “How dare they? He just died!” 

“You didn’t have to punch them,” Felicity says. 

“You were okay with what they were saying?” he scoffs. She can’t be serious. 

“Of course I wasn’t okay,” she says. “But I can take care of myself. I don’t need you defending my honor like it’s some 1950’s soap opera. In case you forget, I grew up in Vegas. I know how to handle jackasses like that.” 

Tommy spits out the blood that has formed in his mouth. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you. I swear Brett was getting you high so they could take advantage of you.” 

“Tommy,” Felicity says. “Even if that was their plan, I’m fine. You didn’t need to cause a scene. Look at your face. Do you think this is what makes me happy?” 

Tommy catches his reflection in a mirror behind the desk he’s leaning against and cringes. He’s going to have more than a few bruises in the morning. 

“It’s what he would have done,” Tommy says. 

“Who?” she asks. 

“Oliver,” Tommy whispers. “I told him I’d protect you.” 

“Oh Tommy,” Felicity sighs, but doesn’t say anything more as the bouncer comes in with a bag of ice. She takes it from him and places it against Tommy’s cheek. 

“Has he really been gone 3 years?” Tommy asks, his eyes filling with tears. 

“For everyone else,” she whispers. “I don’t think anyone but us was stupid enough to think he might have made it.” 

Tommy shakes his head. He hates this. He hates everything about this. Oliver should be here. Oliver should have been the one to throw that punch. Tommy could have jumped in to provide backup. And then he could be teasing Oliver about how whipped he is as Felicity lectured him about how she can take care of herself. 

It’s not supposed to be him. 

It’s supposed to be Oliver. 

Oliver should be here, but he’s not. He’s gone. And he’s never coming back. 

Oliver is really gone. 

Tommy doesn’t know how to live in a world where Oliver Queen doesn’t exist. 

Most days, he doesn’t want to. 


	4. Graduation Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity's father decides to make an appearance and destroy the biggest day of her life so far. Thankfully, Oliver is around to make things better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I continue to be amazed at how people are loving this verse. Thank you! It means the world to me!
> 
> This chapter takes place May 2002. A complete timeline of this series can be found here  
> ([Home Verse Timeline](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13304013))

Oliver stands on the Kuttler’s front porch doing his best to remain calm as he dials Donna’s cell phone number. Felicity’s grandparents have never been his biggest fan, but to actively slam the door in his face is a new low for them. 

“Hey, Sweetheart, are you there?” Donna asks. 

“They won’t let me in,” he grumbles, glaring at the closed door. “And Felicity isn’t answering her phone.” 

Donna mumbles a few choice words under her breath about her in laws and Oliver can’t say he blames her. Apart from the fact that they’ve graciously paid to put a roof over Donna and Felicity’s head the past three and a half years and covered Felicity’s tuition at the fancy math and science academy she attends, they’ve basically been the most awful people Oliver can imagine. 

And now that they’ve invited Felicity’s dad to her graduation? Oliver will be lucky if he can reign his temper in long enough to make it through Felicity’s graduation without getting arrested for battery. He’s feeling an overwhelming urge to practice his boxing skills on their faces. 

“I just got off of work, I’ll be home in ten minutes,” Donna tells him. “Are you alright waiting?” 

“I’ll be okay,” he says, not wanting Donna to worry. She’s got enough on her plate with her ex-husband back in town for the week. 

“I’ll see you soon, Sweetie,” she says. “Thank you again for coming last minute.” 

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” he says. 

And it’s true. Despite the predictably cold greeting he’s received from the Kuttler’s, he’s thrilled that Donna had called to ask him to come out to support Felicity. 

Oliver takes a seat on the front step and pulls out his phone to send Felicity another text that she likely won’t respond to. He hasn’t heard from her since yesterday morning, which isn’t like her at all. However, when Donna had called yesterday to tell him that Noah had shown up, it all made sense. Felicity has a tendency to run when things get overwhelming. It’s easier for her to shut everyone out. He gets it. He hates it, but he understands it. 

If his long lost dad were to show up to his graduation like he somehow had any claim to his success when he’d abandoned him years ago, Oliver would have something to say about that. Granted, Oliver wouldn’t run. He’d throw a fit. He’d yell and scream and when that didn’t work, he’d go out and get so wasted and high, there would be no way the school would allow him to attend the graduation. But Felicity isn’t nearly as self-destructive. 

His head turns at the sound of worn out breaks and makes a mental note to somehow sneak Donna’s car into the shop while he’s here. He can’t have her driving around in that death trap and she won’t accept money from him to either fix it or buy a new one, so he’ll have to get it repaired without her knowing. 

He watches as she pulls into the driveway while waving at him enthusiastically. 

“Oh, Oliver, Sweetheart!” Donna says, getting out of her car. “It’s good to see you.” 

Oliver bites back a smile when she rushes over to pull him into a tight hug as she kisses his cheek repeatedly. The Smoak women have always been incredibly affectionate with him, which is a nice change of pace. His family is loving, but most of the time they are busy worrying about being appropriate and proper. He would never be able to picture his mother leaving bright pink lipstick stains on his cheek. Moira Queen would be horrified at the thought. But Oliver loves it. He has, ever since he first met Donna. 

How easy it is in moments like this to let himself pretend that Donna might one day become his mother as well… That Felicity could truly be his one day and he’d get to be a part of his favorite family in the world. 

“Let’s get you inside,” Donna says, pulling away from him. “I know one broody teenager that desperately needs her knight in shining armor.” 

Oliver doesn’t even try to fight his smile this time. It makes his stomach do that weird floppy thing to know that Felicity considers him her hero. He likes knowing there’s at least one thing that he can do for her better than anyone else in the world. 

Donna unlocks the front door and walks inside, holding it open for him to follow. 

“I don’t want that hoodlum in the house,” Felicity’s grandfather calls out the moment he steps into the foyer. 

He gets arrested in Vegas one time and suddenly he’s a hoodlum. Honestly, of all of Oliver’s sins, being arrested for trespassing his hardly his worst. The owner of that bakery hadn’t even pressed charged. Probably because his parents invested in the place, paying for a large expansion, but still.  

“If you want Felicity to go to her graduation today, you’ll let Oliver in,” Donna says, taking the two steps into the living room to where the Kuttlers are all seated. Oliver stares at the man sitting in the armchair. 

Oliver has only ever seen him in pictures before, and even then, it’s been rare. Donna and Felicity never had anything nice to say about the man. Which is likely why his picture was never found hanging up in any one of the many apartments they’d had during their time in Starling City. The only times Oliver’s seen the man before are in the few pictures of him scattered around this home. 

Oliver’s never thought it before, but staring into his eyes now, he can see the resemblance. Felicity really does have her father’s nose. 

“Why don’t you go on up,” Donna whispers to him when the Kuttlers do nothing but send death glares his way. 

“You’re alright?” he asks, not wanting to leave Donna down here with her ex. He’s just as protective of her as he is of Felicity. 

“Don’t be silly. I’m fine, Darling,” she says, pushing at his shoulders until he starts walking up the stairs. 

It’s all the encouragement he needs. Oliver didn’t come to Vegas to be with the Kuttlers, he came to see his best friend, and it’s been too long. 

He takes the stairs two at a time until he reaches the top. It’s not the first time he’s been in this home, so he still remembers where her room is. And even if he’d forgotten, the giant Star Wars sticker and “Keep Out” sign would have given her away. 

Oliver knocks on the door to no response, and it makes him smile a bit. Felicity really is a master at freezing people out, and right now, her grandparents completely deserve it for springing her father on her like they had. 

“Felicity, it’s me,” Oliver calls out, letting her know it’s safe. He’s not the enemy. 

“Oliver?” he hears her call through the door. “What are you doing here?” 

Her voice moves closer until he can see from the shadow from under the door that she’s standing on the other side. 

“I came to see you,” he says. “You wouldn’t pick up the phone. Now will you let me in?” 

He frowns when the door doesn’t open. 

“Felicity, please,” he says, placing his hand on the door. “Let me help.” 

“You’re alone?” she asks, clearing waiting for a trick. 

“I promise.” 

“I don’t want to see him,” she says. 

“And I wouldn’t help him see you,” he tells her. “Your dad is an asshole and shouldn’t have come, regardless of the invitation.” 

He hears the door unlock and she opens the door for him. The second she does, he pulls her into a hug. She has to stand on her tiptoes to do it, but she wraps her arms around his neck, like she’s done since she was six, even though he’s almost too tall for her to do it anymore. 

“Not that I don’t love this,” she says. “But can we lock the door again?” 

Oliver wraps his arms tighter around her waist and pulls her off of her feet to step into the room. He kicks the door shut behind him and leans back against it, pulling her with him. It seems like the most logical solution since he isn’t about to let her go for even a second to lock the door. 

He leans his head down so that he can bury his face in her neck and take a deep breath in. She smells just as good as he remembers. Like lavender, coffee, and chocolate. It fills him with content. He’s home. 

It doesn’t matter that they talk virtually every single night before bed. Nor that they text constantly throughout the day and he probably knows more minute details about her life than he did when she was living in Starling City. None of that replaces the feeling of actually having her right here in his arms. 

“I’ve missed you,” he says, refusing to let go. 

Felicity doesn’t complain, she nuzzles her cheek against his head and rubs his back in soothing circles. 

“You’re going to get in trouble for coming,” she tells him. 

“I finished my finals yesterday and my dad knows where I am,” he says. “Don’t worry about me.” 

She lowers herself back on her heels and readjusts so that her arms are around his hips and her face is buried in his chest. He rests his chin on the top of her head and holds her as tightly as he can, knowing that she needs the security of it right now. 

“I don’t understand why he came,” she says. 

“I don’t know,” is the only answer he can give her. 

He has no idea why Noah Kuttler has decided to show back up in their life after ten and a half years of radio silence. He still doesn’t understand what man would ever willingly walk away from the Smoak women. Oliver would do anything to be a part of this family and Noah just abandoned them like they were trash. 

“I hate him,” she says, and her voice sounds suspiciously wet. 

She doesn’t, though. If she truly hated her father, she would tell him so and then spend the rest of the day making sure he knows exactly what she thinks of him. She’s hiding from her father because she still loves him and is both hurt and scared. Hurt that he left in the first place and that it took over ten years to reach out to her. And scared that he’s going to abandon her again if she lets him into her heart. 

Oliver reaches behind him and locks the door, then slowly walks her back towards the bed, doing his best not to trip over her since she refuses to let him go. He then sits back on the bed and pulls her down with him. He didn’t intend on her climbing into his lap, but he doesn’t complain when she does. She curls into him and buries her face in his neck. He can feel how damp her face is from crying and it makes him want to punch her father really hard. 

“I’m right here, it’s okay,” he says, rocking her back and forth. 

“Why did they invite him?” she asks. 

“I don’t know.” 

Felicity pulls back from him and wipes her eyes. 

“Well the jokes on him, because I’m not going today,” she says. 

“You’re going to your graduation,” he says. 

Felicity scoffs, standing up. 

“Like hell I am!” she argues as she starts pacing the floor. “I don’t care about any of those kids I’m graduating with. The only reason I was walking to begin with was because of my mom. But now that  _ he’s _ here she won’t want to go either.” 

“Your mom will still want to go,” he says, earning him another laugh. 

“My mom  _ hates _ my dad.” 

“But she  _ loves _ you,” he says, giving her a knowing look. She knows that her reasoning is flawed, she just doesn’t want to admit it because it will mean leaving this room. “You’ve worked way too hard to graduate an entire year early. You aren’t missing your own graduation. This is a moment to celebrate.” 

“It  _ was _ a moment to celebrate,” she says. “Then he showed up.” 

“What if I promise to play buffer the entire time,” he asks. 

She crosses her arms and looks at him doubtfully, but doesn’t argue. He’s got her. 

“I’ll stay with you the entire time and make sure that he doesn’t get a second with you,” he says. 

“I don’t want to see him,” she says, dropping her arms to her sides in defeat. Oliver reaches out to take one of her hands and pull her closer to him. 

“I’ll be your bodyguard,” he promises, squeezing her hand in reassurance. 

She glances over at the clock. It’s 12:30. Her graduation is supposed to start at 2:30 and Donna said the students are required to arrive an hour early.

“You’ve got forty minutes before we have to leave,” he informs her. “Why don’t you hop in the shower and start getting ready?” 

Felicity runs her free hand up and down his tie. It’s purple and black. Her school colors. 

“You look handsome in a suit,” she says.  

“Gotta look my best for my favorite girl,” he says, earning him a smile that makes his heart swell about three times its usual size. 

“Thank you for coming,” she tells him. “It wouldn’t have felt right without you here.” 

“Please, even before your mom called me yesterday to tell me about your dad, you know I never was going to be okay watching you graduate over a live stream,” he says. 

She stares at him for another moment, looking like she wants to say more, but doesn’t. She hands him the remote to her TV instead. 

“I’m going to go shower,” she says. “You can stay here and watch TV if you want.” 

“I should tell your mom you’ve decided to attend,” he says, thinking about how Donna probably would appreciate being saved from the pack of wolves. If Felicity is good, he may as well go play hero elsewhere. 

Felicity gives him one last hug and kisses him on the cheek before she grabs her towel off the back of her door and heads to the bathroom. 

Oliver closes his eyes and falls back into her bed, trying to memorize the feeling of her lips against his cheek. Though he doesn’t know how it’s possible, everytime he sees her, he falls more and more in love with her. It’s awful. 

It wouldn’t take much to convince Felicity to give him more. He sees the way her eyes linger on him. Puberty has done him many favors, he knows he’s an attractive man. It’s not just his money that has the girls at school falling so willingly into his bed. According to the tabloids, he’s a catch. 

It’s not getting Felicity to agree to a date that scares him. It’s what happens after that initial lust runs out. He’s in love with her and she’s… she can’t be more than in lust with him. If she were to date him, she’d realize pretty soon that he has little to offer her beyond the physical. He’s not as smart as her. He didn’t get a perfect score on his SAT unlike her last boyfriend. She’ll get bored and move on. And it would devastate him. 

So, no. He can’t take that step with her. Instead, he just has to learn to live with the little moments of affection she gives him. 

He turns his head so that his face is in her pillow and takes another deep breath in, memorizing the scent and wondering if he could get away with stealing her pillow to take home with him. Probably not. Felicity is observant and she’d know right away. How the hell would he explain that to her without sounding like a total creep? He couldn’t. 

Reluctantly, Oliver pulls himself to his feet and heads downstairs. He’s got the entire weekend to memorize things about Felicity. Right now, Donna needs him. 


	5. Moving On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity tries to move on at Tommy's encouragement, but it doesn't end well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place January 2010. A complete timeline of this series can be found here  
> ([Home Verse Timeline](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13304013))

Felicity glances down at her phone again, rolling her eyes at the lack of notifications before polishing off her fourth glass of wine. 

“Men, she grumbles as she goes to pour herself another glass only to find the bottle is empty. 

Of course it is. Because why would the universe be on her side for once? 

She hates feeling like this. She’s never been one of those girls to anxiously sit by the phone waiting for a boy to call her back. It’s just not her. Except clearly, now it is. 

A few weeks ago, when the cute delivery guy had started flirting with her, it had been fun. Nothing more. She never intended for it to go anywhere. She had zero expectations. It just felt nice to be wanted for a change. But then he’d gone and asked her out and Tommy had convinced her to say yes. 

She hadn’t wanted to go. She wanted to keep things as they were. Flirting was harmless, dating was… more than she was ready for. But she’d gone anyways. Tommy had been right, a single date didn’t mean she had to commit to anything. The date was good. The flirty text messages back and forth were nice. It felt good to have a reason to smile again after Hong Kong. So she’d agreed to another date and it had been just as amazing as the first. 

And now the asshole has stopped texting her regularly like he used to. He’ll flirt with her one day then ignore her for the next three. She tries to be rational and say it’s because he’s busy and hasn’t gotten the messages, but she can see that he’s read them. 

The logical side of her brain begs her not to read too much into it. There are a number of reasons why he hasn’t talked to her in 5 days and suddenly, today, decided to message her. There are a number of reasons why his message was a line about how annoying it is to be asked out by people, and why when she responded to the message  _ twice _ he didn’t respond back. 

It doesn’t have to be a passive aggressive way of saying he’s got other offers and he’s no longer into her. 

Really, logical part of her tells her just to forget about the entire thing. She shouldn’t have to make up excuses for a boy. She should move on because it wasn’t like they were anything serious anyways. However, her heart isn’t getting the message. It feels like a rejection, and after Hong Kong, it’s the last thing she needs. She’d been at her worst when this guy started talking to her and it was like a sliver of sunlight during a brutal storm. Against every conscious effort not to, she had unconsciously started clinging to that sunlight, and now look at her. 

She’s at home alone on a Saturday night, drunk and waiting for a boy to call her. 

This isn’t her. 

The front door opens and Tommy walks into their apartment whistling a happy tune and she immediately wants to kill him. 

“This is all your fault,” she says, pointing the empty wine bottle at him. 

He holds his hands up in defense, “What did I do?” 

“I didn’t  _ want _ to date,” she says, standing up to grab herself another bottle while he hangs up his coat and comes to sit at their table. 

“I was perfectly content dying alone, but noooooooo,” she says, tossing the empty bottle loudly into the recycling bin before moving to uncork another one. “You had to go and convince me that I needed to move on. And guess what? I did. So thanks for that. It feels great!” 

“I’m guessing things with Jason aren’t going well?” he asks, his voice sounding nervous as he watches her carefully. 

She glares at him. 

“Gee, Sherlock, whatever gave you that impression?” she says sarcastically. 

She comes back over to the table and pours herself another glass of wine. Tommy reaches behind him to grab a clean glass from the cupboard, but she pulls the bottle out of reach before he can pour himself a glass. 

“No, no,” she protests. “Pushy jerks don’t get wine.” 

He sighs deeply, looking unimpressed, but that’s just fine with her. This is his fault entirely. If it were up to her, she never would have gone on the date in the first place and she wouldn’t be sitting here feeling like shit. 

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?” he says. 

“I don’t know,” she grumbles. “ _ That’s _ the problem.” 

“I thought you said the date last weekend went well,” he says, standing up to grab a beer out of the fridge, and she notices that his hands are shaking. 

“Are you high?” she asks. He’d promised her that he’d stop doing drugs, especially when he’s going out by himself and she’s not there to watch out for him. 

Tommy sets the bottle down on the counter and stares at her, clearly annoyed. 

“No,” he says. “Will you stop asking me that all the time?” 

She rolls her eyes and turns her attention back to her phone, once again checking to see if he’s responded. Her message was opened three hours ago. Clearly he doesn’t care about her anymore. He’s probably out at a bar finding somebody new. 

Tommy reaches over her and plucks the phone right out of her hands. She’d argue about privacy, but she knows Tommy won’t listen and a part of her is desperate for a guy’s opinion. Maybe Tommy will be able to see something in the messages that she’s missed. She watches as his face changes from vague interest, to confusion, to annoyance. 

“Pull the plug and move on,” Tommy says handing the phone back to her. “He’s not worth your time.” 

“What? Why?” she asks, desperate for some answers as she scrolls through the messages for the millionth time. Was it her? Did she do something to scare him off? 

“He’s clearly just playing games with you to get you hooked,” Tommy says. “Either he’s insecure or immature. Either way, you don’t need that. Move on.” 

Felicity laughs at that, even though she finds none of this funny. She’s infuriated. 

“I said from the beginning, I didn’t want this,” she says, giving him a pointed look. “I knew — I  _ knew _ I wasn’t ready to date but you pushed me towards it. You said it was time to get over Oliver and so I went out. I had zero interest in getting attached to anyone new, but now I have and he doesn’t even like me. Do you have any idea how that feels Tommy?” 

Of course not. Women fall at Tommy’s feet. He couldn’t possibly understand rejection. 

“Lis—” 

“No,” she holds her hand up to silence him as she downs the glass of wine in front of her before standing up, intent on heading to bed. She feels like she’s about to cry and she doesn’t want Tommy to see her like this. She’s too angry at him. “I’m going to bed. I feel like an idiot. This isn’t me. Waiting around on a boy is not my thing. I’m smarter than this.” 

Tommy reaches out and grabs her wrist when she tries to leave the room. He pulls her back until she reluctantly sits in his lap where he starts to rub her back sympathetically. 

“I keep checking my phone every five seconds like some crazy stalker and I hate it,” she says. “I hate feeling this way.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and the sorrow in his voice tells her that he truly means it. Instantly, all of her anger at him drops. 

“I don’t cry over boys,” she says even though that’s exactly what she’s doing right now. 

“I’m sorry he turned out to be an ass and I’m sorry you got your heart broken,” he says. 

“You owe me chocolate,” she grumbles, causing him to chuckle. 

“I’ll have some sent over,” he says. “But ‘Lis?” 

“Hmm,” she says, humming in content. 

She’s felt alone all night, but here, in Tommy’s arms, she’s reminded that she’s not. Oliver may be gone and Jason may have turned out to be a total jackass, but she’s never going to be completely alone. She’ll always have Tommy. It doesn’t fix everything. It doesn’t put her heart back together, but it’s a comfort all the same. 

“You can’t close yourself back off again,” he says. “This is one bad guy. There are so many more out there. You’ll find the one for you.” 

“I already did,” she admits, crying into his shoulder and leaving mascara stains on his dress shirt. 

“It sucks. I always thought you two would end up together, too. But Oliver wouldn’t want you to be alone,” he says. “Promise me you won’t close yourself off again.” 

She can’t promise that. Agreeing to a date with Jason had been one of the hardest things she’s ever done. She’d been terrified. But then it had gone so good and she’d started to open her heart up again, only to have it crushed. She can’t sign up for that again. 

“It’s only been a few months,” she argues. 

“Since Hong Kong,” he says, causing them both to grimace. “Lis, Oliver’s been dead for nearly four years. We both have to figure out how to move on. He’s not coming back.” 

She sits up and looks him in the eyes. They are bloodshot and his pupils are still blown. Felicity isn’t the only one still struggling to navigate her grief. 

“Is getting high your way of moving on?” she asks, challenging him. 

“We aren’t talking about me,” he says. 

“Well maybe we should be,” she says. “You told me you weren’t going to do drugs anymore.” 

“Coke doesn’t count,” he says with a roll of his eyes, pushing her out of his lap. “I’m going to bed.” 

Tommy storms out of the room and a few seconds later she hears his bedroom door slam shut. 

Felicity may be reluctant to date again, but what Tommy’s doing? Drowning his sorrows in drugs and alcohol so that nobody will see how much he’s truly hurting? That’s far worse. 


	6. Kensington Clinic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy can't sleep. He's too upset about the fact that his dad is trying to close his mom's clinic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I keep going into writing planning on writing Oliver/Felicity moments, but Tommy keeps demanding attention instead. I promise, more Olicity will be to come. But it's quite possible that Stacy and Megan will get their SB wishes granted at this rate... Tommy won't be denied! 
> 
> Also- warning: I'm writing this on strep throat so while I've edited, it- it may not be my best work!
> 
> This chapter takes place between March 1991 and January 2013. A complete timeline of this series can be found here  
> ([Home Verse Timeline](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13304013))

Tommy glances over to see that Laurel is sound asleep in bed. He isn’t so lucky. He hasn’t been able to calm himself down since dinner with his dad. He’d had a drink when he got back to Laurel’s hoping it would take some of the edge off but it hasn’t helped. If anything, it just makes him yearn for something stronger. The only reason he isn’t at a club right now searching out momentary oblivion is the fear of losing Laurel and a promise he made to Felicity a year and a half ago. He’d received his 18 month medallion last week and he’s worked too hard to give that up. 

Still, he’s positively shaking with pent up emotion and needs some kind of release. With drugs out and Laurel too tired for sex, he’s not left with a lot of options. 

This is probably why his sponsor suggested he find coping mechanisms that weren’t reliant on other people. He should have listened, but at the time Tommy’d been convinced it would never be an issue. He’d been doing so well with his sobriety. Really, up until his dad cut him off, he hadn’t even been tempted. Tommy had considered himself cured. The only reason he still even went to meetings was because Felicity would harass him if he stopped. 

God, he was so naive. He should have known that his dad would never stop being an asshole and a huge trigger for his addiction. He still can’t believe his dad is attempting to close the clinic. He especially can’t believe his dad genuinely thought Tommy would help him do it. The clinic is one of the last real pieces of his mom he has left. 

He watches Laurel carefully for any signs she may not be completely asleep but finds none. She’s passed out and will kill him if he wakes her up, even if it’s just to talk. She has an early morning tomorrow and he’d already kept her up later than she’d intended talking over what happened with his dad. 

He needs to do something. All laying here is doing is allowing him to obsess. He carefully crawls out of bed and grabs his cell off of the nightstand before moving into the living room. If he can’t talk to Laurel about this, there is somebody else he can always lean on. Somebody who won’t hesitate to stay up the entire night talking him down if it means keeping him on the wagon. 

He opens his contacts and clicks on Felicity’s name. She picks up on the first ring. 

“Tommy?” she says. He can hear the television on in the background and Oliver calling after her, so he knows he didn’t wake her. She’s started keeping much later hours than she used to, now that Oliver is back. 

“Hey,” he says, trying to muster up the energy to play it cool, but he can’t. His hands are still shaking in rage. 

“What’s wrong? You sound weird,” she says, instantly picking up on his mood even though she can’t see him and he’s only said one word. 

“I met with my dad tonight,” he says, deciding to get straight too it. It’s late and the two of them are past the point in their friendship where he needs to attempt small talk first. 

He hears some movement on her part. She says something to Oliver and soon the television is turned off. 

“What happened?” she asks. 

“He invited me to dinner yesterday and I thought it was an awful idea—” 

“You mean because he’s a heartless bastard that doesn’t give a damn about anyone but himself?” she says, cutting him off. 

Tommy is a bit surprised at her bitter tone. She’s always been protective of him and skeptical of Malcolm’s role in Tommy’s life, but he’s still her boss and she usually remains at least a tiny bit objective. 

“Uh,” he coughs to clear his throat, trying to figure out how to respond. “Yeah. Well Laurel convinced me to go. She thought he might be trying to extend an olive branch. But I should have known better. He’s always been a selfish son of a bitch, I don’t know why I let myself believe for even a second he cared about me or getting to know Laurel.” 

His fist clenches and his heart starts pounding again as he remembers the casual way his father had passed him that paperwork like it was nothing. That clinic had been his mother’s entire life and his father knows it, regardless of the fact that he tried to tell Tommy it wasn’t. 

He starts pacing back and forth, unable to stand still as the need courses through his veins. It’s days like today that he seriously questions why he ever got sober. All it would take is a single pill… maybe a line... If he got desperate, he could do a shot… 

“Tommy,” Felicity says carefully. Calmly. Her voice settles him a bit, but it doesn’t eradicate the anger in him or quiet the desire to get high. “Take a deep breath.”

He tried to breathe with her, but can’t force himself to slow down enough. 

“I’m just so angry,” he says, his hands shaking. 

“Ok, just focus on the air coming in through your lungs. Pay attention to the way your body reacts. It doesn’t need anything that you aren’t already giving it. You’re fine. Just breathe,” she says, still calm. 

It’s not the first time she’s seen him in this state, even if it’s been awhile. He’s glad she still remembers how to talk him down. 

It takes him a few minutes and Felicity stays on the line as he breathes in and out, forcing his body to calm down. As justified as his anger is, he’s only letting his dad win by reacting as strongly as he is. His dad doesn’t get to have that kind of power over him. Tommy controls his own reactions. 

After several minutes, he feels calm enough to open his eyes again and talk. 

“Ok,” he says, signaling that he’s back. 

“I’m proud of you for calling me,” she says. 

He shakes his head and fights off a blush. He proud of himself too, but he feels stupid admitting it. 

“Ok,” is all he says. 

“So are you ready to tell me what he did or do you need to talk about something else for awhile?” She asks. 

He takes a deep breath and feels the air filling his lungs. He’s ok. He doesn’t need anything he doesn’t already have. He can talk about it without losing himself. 

“He wants me to agree to close down my mom’s clinic,” he says, clenching his teeth at the memory and taking another deep breath. He doesn’t need anything he doesn’t already have. His dad doesn’t get to have any power over his actions. “That clinic meant everything to her. We’ve kept it open for years  _ because _ it meant everything to her. But now he wants to close it like it’s nothing.” 

“Kensington Clinic?” she says. “Why?” 

“I have no idea. Maybe he’s banging another secretary and she’s threatened by the fact that my dad and I still operate it. Maybe he’s just tired of the paperwork. Who cares why. Nothing makes this okay. He’s an asshole,” he says bitterly. 

“Breathe in. Focus on what your body is saying. You are safe. You are ok. You don’t need anything more than the air filling your lungs,” she says. 

He closes his eyes and continues to breathe. He hears her saying something to Oliver on the other line. 

“Am I on speakerphone?” he asks, growing annoyed. It’s not that he’s been hiding his addiction and recovery from Oliver — but he certainly hasn’t told him yet and it’s a story he’d rather tell Oliver himself. 

“What? No,” she says. “Sorry. I was just telling Oliver that the kitchen timer was going off.” 

He’s not entirely sure that she’s telling him the truth, but he also doesn’t have any reason to think she’d lie to him. 

“He can’t close that clinic without me and I won’t sign the papers. He can take my trust away all he wants, but  _ she  _ left that clinic to me. Legally, he can’t touch it,” he says. 

Even though he knows it’s a fact, there’s still that sinking feeling he gets in his stomach. There’s very little his dad isn’t capable of and he’s worried his dad is gonna find a way to get around needing his signature. 

“I don’t understand why he would want to,” she says. “Who is a free clinic hurting?” 

“His profit margin?” he scoffs. “What does he care if some kids in the Glades get access to healthcare.” 

“I was one of those kids,” she says sadly. “I used to go to that clinic whenever I was sick. What does he have against the Glades?” 

“You mean other than the fact that my mom died there?” he says bitterly. “Who knows. He’s never had the level of compassion my mom had. He only ever had compassion for his family and when she died, he lost even that.” 

“Tommy,” she says seriously. “You need to find out why he wants to close her clinic. It’s really important.” 

“What?” he asks, confused. “Why does it matter. I’m not letting him do it. I don’t care what kind of sob story he uses. He’s really good at using her as an excuse to get his way, but I won’t do it. I won’t let him.” 

“I’m not saying you have to let him,” she says. “I just think you need to find out why.” 

Tommy shakes his head. He doesn’t want to hear his father out. He’s an asshole. No reason he could give would change that fact. If anything, it would just make Tommy more upset to find out why and he doesn’t need to risk that. Those kind of conversations usually lead to a relapse. 

“He really wants to shut down the clinic?” she says after several moments of silence. 

“Malcolm Merlyn: class act,” he says bitterly. 

“That’s really sad,” she says. “You know the first time I went there was when I was five. We’d only been in Starling for a few months. I had an allergic reaction and my mom didn’t have any health insurance. And since we’d only just left my dad, we didn’t yet have the paperwork to prove I qualified for state aid.” 

“My dad likes to tell me that I was too young to remember, but it’s not true,” he says, sitting down on the couch as his anger begins to lessen as he remembers his mom. He’s still angry at his father, but talking about his mom brings him some peace. “She used to tell me stories about her days at the clinic. She would always complain about the system and how broken it was. She loved to help people.” 

“You never talk about her,” Felicity says. 

“I guess I learned not to,” he says. “My dad never wanted to hear about it and after awhile I assumed my friends had grown tired of hearing me cry.” 

“I’m sure that wasn’t true,” she says. “Oliver loves you. He would have listened to you.” 

“Yeah, probably,” he concedes. Maybe he wasn’t protecting them. Maybe he stayed silent because he was protecting himself. 

“The first time I was there, their computer system wasn’t working. I wanted to fix it for them but my mom kept telling me no. I was so annoyed at her.” 

“Wait, what?” he sits up straighter, recognizing this story, only not because Felicity had told it to him before. 

“Yeah, she was worried I’d break something that she couldn’t pay to fix,” Felicity says with a laugh. “Which is fair. I was only five. But the doctor who treated me let me try.” 

****

_ “What do you mean the system isn’t working?” Rebecca asks her nurse, Talisha. “We just bought new equipment?”  _

_ She sighs as Talisha explains how the computer system is going haywire and that they can’t figure out how to fix it. Malcolm is going to love this. He’s supportive of her work in the Glades, but he’s also growing weary of just how many issues the clinic has been having lately. She doesn’t want to have to explain to him that the $250,000 that they’d invested in updating the computer equipment and software have proven ineffective.  _

_ “Have you tried restarting the computers?” Rebecca asks and Talisha confirms that she has, several times. She’s even tried restarting the main server. It did nothing.  _

_ “Do we need to reinstall the software?” she asks, racking her brain for anything that could fix the problem on it’s own. She can call somebody in, but with the holiday it’s going to take awhile to get somebody on the phone and even once she does, it’ll cost her.  _

_ “It’s a hardware issue, not a software issue,” Talisha says apologetically.  _

_ “How is that possible? Everything is brand new. They just set it up last month,” she says. Talisha can only shrug helplessly.  _

_ “Alright, well I guess we’ll have to go back to using paper filing for now,” she says. “I’ll make some calls once we’ve cleared out some of the waiting room.”  _

_ She would usually go ahead and take care of this stuff immediately, but they’ve only got two doctors and one nurse on staff tonight due to the holiday and it’s too busy to sneak away to her office to make some calls.  _

_ “Who do I have next?” she asks and Talisha hands her a chart. There’s a young boy who got bit by a dog. He’ll need shots and possibly stitches on his lip.  _

_ “But Mom, I can fix it!” somebody argues loudly from the waiting room, causing Rebecca to look up from the chart. She notices a little girl, about Tommy’s age, arguing with her mother.  _

_ “Felicity, sit back down,” her mother hisses, trying her best to be quiet but it’s hard. Their waiting room isn’t large. Rebecca wants to expand the clinic, but until they can get more staff, they’re already servicing more people than they can really handle. Even with all of the connections her last name brings, very few skilled physicians want to come and work at a free clinic in the Glades.   _

_ The little girl, Felicity, stomps her foot. “You never let me do anything because I’m little! Daddy used to let me.”  _

_ “Yes, well your father isn’t here and that computer doesn’t belong to me,” the woman says. “I can’t pay for it if you break it.” _

_ “I won’t break it!” Felicity shouts as her mother tries to wrangle her back into a seat.  _

_ Rebecca turns to look back at the nurse with a raised eyebrow.  _

_ “She thinks she can fix our computer problems,” the nurse whispers with an amused smile.  _

_ Rebecca looks back out at girl and can’t help but smile. She’s had her fair share of arguments with Tommy. Kids that age don’t really understand their limits. Just last week, Tommy had a fit because she wouldn’t let him help the construction crew working on the new Merlyn Global headquarters. Apparently building a skyscraper is nothing once you’ve assembled the Millennium Falcon using Legos.  _

_ Rebecca calls her next patient and brings him to a room to get him stitched up. She moves as quickly and efficiently as she can while still ensuring that he’s taken care of. At the rate things are going, she won’t be home in time to see Tommy off to bed. There are too many people here tonight that need her help.  _

_ She feels guilty about missing Good Friday service with her family. She feels even more guilty that her in-laws are in town and judging her majorly for prioritizing the clinic over her family and relationship with God. However, as Talisha reminded her today, she’s doing God’s work and it’s good for Tommy to learn about the importance of helping others. With the lifestyle they lead and the extravagance their money allows, it’ll be too easy for him to become entitled.  _

_ It’s good for her son to see her working. Besides, Malcolm will make sure Tommy gets tucked in and sang to. Malcolm is great with their son.  _

_ Rebecca sees three more patients before she sees the next name on her list: Felicity Smoak. She looks out into the waiting room and sees the little girl from before curled up in a chair with her chin on her knees pouting, but silent.  _

_ “Felicity Smoak?” she calls out and instantly the girl’s mother is on her feet, scrambling to grab both of their bags while pulling her daughter out of her chair.  _

_ “Hello, I’m Dr. Merlyn,” Rebecca says, leading them into a room and helping Felicity up onto an exam table. “It says here that you have a rash?”  _

_ Felicity, still pouting and avoiding her mother’s eyes, pulls up the sleeves of her sweatshirt to reveal rashes up both arms. Rebecca moves in closer to examine it better.  _

_ “How long has she had this?” she asks.  _

_ “A few days?” her mom says. “I noticed it yesterday, but I couldn’t get the time off to bring her in.”  _

_ Her guilty look tells Rebecca she’s about to get a long-winded explanation on the matter, but Rebecca waves her off. She’s learned that people who live in the Glades have a deeply seeded mistrust. They are constantly worried about their actions leading to a CPS call, likely because they have before. She doesn’t know how many times she’s had to listen to parents justify to her how they aren’t unfit and it breaks her heart. She hates that the automatic assumption when you’re poor is that you can’t raise a child properly.  _

_ “It’s alright,” Rebecca says. “It’s hard to be a working mother. I understand. What’s your name?”  _

_ It’s important to gain her patients’ trust because otherwise, she finds they tend to hold back on the details.  _

_ “Donna,” she says.  _

_ “You can call me Rebecca,” she says with a smile. “I’m a working mother, too. My son, Tommy, is Felicity’s age.”  _

_ “Does he go to Ashview?” Donna asks, visibly relaxing.  _

_ “He’s at Starling Prep. Is Ashview where you go?” she asks Felicity, who nods.  _

_ “I’ve been trying to get her into some of the private schools here. She needs a school with a better STEM program like the one she was at back in Vegas. She has the grades and test scores to get in, but so far, we haven’t been able to secure any of the scholarships so she can attend.”  _

_ “There’s so much politics involved in those things, sadly,” she says with a sympathetic smile. She’s on the board at Starling Prep and continually fumes about how the scholarship program is run. It’s supposed to be meant to give kids of great potential but minimal means a fighting chance, but too often it comes down to who knows who and a vastly different understanding of the term ‘minimal means.’ _

_ Donna doesn’t say anything more, but her bitter look tells Rebecca that’s exactly what continues to happen to them.  _

_ “Does she have any allergies?” Rebecca asks, getting back on task as she marks down some notes in Felicity’s chart and moves to take her fever and look at her throat. As much as she’d love to sit here and help Donna with more than Felicity’s rash, there is a long line of people waiting outside who need just as much help.  _

_ “She has a severe nut allergy, but she hasn’t eaten any. We don’t even bring nuts into the apartment to make sure,” Donna says frantically, clearly worried that Felicity’s come into contact with a nut somewhere.  _

_ “Her reaction would be more serious if she had eaten a nut,” Rebecca says. “Does she have any other rashes?”  _

_ She makes more notes on her chart. There’s no fever and her throat looks clear. It doesn’t appear like it’s an infection. She’s almost positive it’s an allergic reaction to something, she just needs to figure out what. Hopefully, without having to order a bunch of bloodwork.  _

_ “No, just the one,” Donna says, but Rebecca notices the way Felicity bites her lip and the fact that her eyes go straight to her shoes.  _

_ “Felicity,” Rebecca says gently, bringing herself into the little girls eyeline. “Do you have any other rashes?”  _

_ Felicity glances at her mom then back at Rebecca.  _

_ She sees this a lot in the Glades. Many of the kids she treats are reluctant to explain the extent of their symptoms. While in rare occasions, it can be a sign of abuse, Rebecca has learned that the most common reason is money. Kids learn pretty quickly that whenever they have to go to the doctor, it costs their parents money they don’t have, so they lie. They pretend they aren’t sick when they are or that their injuries aren’t that bad. Almost always, it results in something even worse because things get left untreated.  _

_ “I can’t help you if you don’t show me what’s going on,” Rebecca says kindly. “I’ve already seen your rash and will need to give you medicine, I just want to make sure we find out why you got the rash in the first place so you don’t get another one and have to come back.”  _

_ Rebecca smiles in relief that she indeed read the situation correctly, because Felicity immediately pulls her shirt up to reveal a rash on her stomach.  _

_ “Oh Baby,” Donna says, reaching out to run a hand through Felicity’s hair. “Why didn’t you say anything?”  _

_ Felicity shrugs.  _

_ “Have you recently started using anything new in the home? New soap? Detergent? Lotions?”  _

_ Donna shakes her head. “No, we use the same stuff we’ve always used from the dollar store.”  _

_ “That’s not true,” Felicity says, speaking for the first time since coming into the room. “Last week you had to borrow detergent from Mr. Miller down the hall.”  _

_ Rebecca smiles, it looks like they’ve found their culprit. She’s always relieved when the solutions are as simple as this. The last thing any of her patients need are extensive tests or referrals to specialists they can’t afford.  _

_ “Do you have any rashes anywhere else?” Rebecca asks, assuming if she’s allergic to the laundry detergent, then she’ll have a rash anywhere her clothes touch.  _

_ Felicity blushes a deep shade of red and Rebecca knows that she’s likely got a rash somewhere that she’s embarrassed to talk about.  _

_ “It’s okay, you don’t have to show me,” Rebecca says and Felicity looks relieved.  _

_ “What’s going on?” Donna asks.  _

_ “It appears that something in that detergent likely caused an allergic reaction,” she explains. “I’m going to give you some Cortizone for the rash which should help. I’d find out from Mr. Miller what kind of detergent he had so you can avoid it in the future. Usually I’d recommend using a hypoallergenic detergent, but I know those can be expensive. If you’ve been using the dollar store brand and she never had a reaction to it before, you should be okay to keep using that.”  _

_ Donna nods. “So she’s going to be okay?”  _

_ Rebecca smiles and places a comforting hand on her shoulder. “She should be alright. Just watch her closely for a few days to make sure that the rash goes away and doesn’t come back, and you should be okay.”  _

_ “And if it comes back?” Donna asks. _

_ “Then just come back to me and we’ll figure it out together,” she says. “And you,” she turns to look at Felicity. “Try not to itch, okay?”  _

_ Felicity nods and hops off the table to go look at the computer that’s set up in the corner.  _

_ “Can I do it now?” Felicity asks, turning to look at Donna.  _

_ Donna blushes and moves to pull Felicity away from the computer.  _

_ “No, I told you, it’s not ours,” Donna says.  _

_ Rebecca makes some final marks on the chart to finish them up so that she can send them on their way.  _

_ “But we don’t have one at home to play with and theirs is already broken,” she says.  _

_ Donna pulls her into her lap and Felicity rests her head against Donna’s shoulder.  _

_ “Do you like computers, Felicity?” Rebecca asks.  _

_ “I like to build them,” she says through a yawn, playing with her mom’s hair.  _

_ “Build them? Wow,” Rebecca says, impressed. The girl is only 5 years old.  _

_ “She used to build them with her father,” Donna explains.  _

_ “Then he left,” Felicity grumbles.  _

_ Donna grimaces and looks to Rebecca. “Are we all done here?”  _

_ Rebecca doesn’t know what makes her do it. She really knows nothing about Felicity or her skill level. All she has to go on is the fact that Felicity had sounded so determined in the lobby that she could fix the computer problem and the fact that Donna says she has high test scores and used to go to a STEM school in Vegas.  _

_ “Do you know what’s wrong with our computers?” Rebecca asks and Felicity immediately perks up.  _

_ “Yes,” she says and Donna shakes her head.  _

_ “You don’t have to encourage her,” she says. “She likes to take things apart and put them back together. I wouldn’t be able to pay for it if she broke anything.”  _

_ Rebecca waves her off. “Our system is already broken and will require repair. We may as well let her play with it and learn something. Isn’t that right, Felicity?”  _

_ Felicity’s eyes go wide and she jumps out of her mom’s lap.  _

_ “I can fix it?” she asks, looking like Tommy did the time they took him to Disneyland.  _

_ “You can give it a try,” she says.  _

_ Rebecca doubts that the girl will be able to solve the problem, but she’s a big supporter of women in STEM fields, so she’s happy to encourage the girl’s passion for engineering.  _

_ Donna looks like she wants to protest more, so Rebecca cuts her off.  _

_ “Have you applied for the scholarship at Starling Prep?” Rebecca asks, leading them back to the front desk so she can get them the cream they’ll need and inform Talisha that Felicity will be working on their computers.  _

_ “We did a few months ago, but we’re still waiting to hear back on the scholarship,” Donna explains.  _

_ The scholarship recipients were determined a few weeks ago. If they have long heard back by now, they didn’t get it. Rebecca makes a mental note to talk to the board about the Smoak’s. If she knows the board, they didn’t give the scholarship to them because they’d already promised it to somebody’s middle-class cousin who hardly needs it. Rebecca really should just create a scholarship herself. She’s sick of seeing kids with a passion for learning getting beaten down by the system.  _

****

“Felicity, you were the precocious kindergartner who took the clinic’s computer system apart?” Tommy says in wonder as the story comes flooding back to him. 

“I put it back together!” she says defensively. “Wait— how did you know about that?” 

“My mom told me,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief. How has this never come up before now? “She was talking to my dad about it one night when she told him that she was setting up a new scholarship program at Starling Prep.” 

“Your mom heard that story?” she asks. 

“My mom was the doctor!” he says, a smile making its way onto his face despite the awful night he’s had. 

“That’s not… Wow,” Felicity says. “I had no idea. I mean I knew your mom ran it, but I didn’t realize she was a doctor.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Her parents wanted her to become a surgeon, but all she ever wanted to do was join Doctors Without Borders. When she married my dad, they compromised and she started the clinic in the Glades.” 

“I can’t believe I never knew that,” she says. “I mean I know I saw her at a few school events when we were little, but it’s not like you and I were friends and she looks much different in scrubs… I can’t believe I met your mom!”

“I can’t believe you’re the girl that they started that scholarship program for,” he says. 

It’s actually pretty cool the more that he thinks about it. The entire reason that Tommy has Felicity in his life is because of Oliver. And Oliver only met Felicity because she got a scholarship that allowed her to go to Starling Prep. He tries to think about what life would have been like if she never came to Starling Prep, and he doesn’t like the picture that life paints. He’d probably have OD’d by now and Oliver? There’s no telling what he would have become without Felicity. 

It’s almost like his mom knew the difficulties he would have and sent him a guardian angel to look after him in her place. 

Thinking about it brings tears to his eyes and he feels a connection with his mom he doesn’t often experience anymore. 

“My scholarship came from your mom?” she asks. “I didn’t… We didn’t ask your mom for that. That’s not why I fixed that computer.” 

“Knowing my mom, she probably never wanted you to know,” he says with a growing smile. That really was the essence of who his mom was. She never once did anything for recognition. She did things truly for the benefit of others. 

“Wow. Talk about a small world,” she says. 

“I think the universe was looking out for us that day,” he says. 

“Yeah,” she says and he can hear the smile in her own voice. “She never mentioned it to you? That Oliver’s overly talkative friend was the one from her clinic?”

Tommy shakes her head. “She didn’t think it was any of my business who at our school was there on scholarship and who wasn’t. She said it shouldn’t matter.”

“But… Everyone  _ knew _ who the scholarship kids were,” she says. 

“I don’t know, I just remember her telling me that she didn’t want me judging others for circumstances they had no control over.” 

“But you still didn’t like me,” she teases. 

“Yeah, not because you were poor. Because you never stopped talking and always had to be right. You were annoying,” he teases her back. 

“And now?” she asks. “Do you still find me an annoying know-it-all?” 

“Of course,” he says with a laugh. “But your my annoying know-it-all.” 

The two of them continue teasing each other and it doesn’t take long for the last of his anger to slip away and his eyes to start growing heavy. He’s finally calmed down enough to sleep. 

“Tommy?” 

“Hmm?” he asks though a yawn, glancing over at the clock. It’s later than he realized. He’s surprised she hasn’t kicked him off the phone so she can get some rest before work tomorrow. 

“Your mom was pretty great,” she says. “I’m really sorry about what happened to her.” 

He nods. He never knows what to say when people say things like that to him, but when it’s Felicity saying it, it isn’t so awkward. 

“But your dad is an awful man and you should stay away from him,” she says. 

While he knows it’s true, he feels like there’s something she’s not telling him. Like she knows something about his dad that she isn’t saying. 

“Did something happen?” he asks, curious if his dad did something at work to make Felicity dislike him more than she already did. He wouldn’t be surprised. His dad may have an army of lawyers to make complaints against him disappear, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t valid. 

“Just… Stay away from him,” she warns. “And don’t let him take your mom’s clinic from you. It’s special to you and he’s already taken enough.” 

He agrees with that. He wants to ask her more questions, but knows her well enough to recognize he won’t get answers tonight. He’ll have to stop by for dinner sometime this week and try to pry them out of her. 

“I guess I should let you get back to Oliver,” he says, reluctant to hang up the phone. Now that he’s basically moved in with Laurel, they don’t get enough time together. 

“Thanks,” she says. “I’m sure Laurel misses you, too.” 

He’s about to hang up the phone when suddenly, a strong need to say something more hits him out of nowhere. “Hey Felicity? I love you.” 

He doesn’t know where it came from or why he says it, but he does. He chalks it up to the fact that whoever had kidnapped Walter is still after her as well. 

“I love you, too,” she says. “Come home for dinner sometime this week. I miss you.” 

“I miss you too,” he says. “Stay safe. Tell Oliver that I’ll kill him if anything happens to you.” 

“I’ll be okay,” she promises. “Night Tommy.” 

He hangs up the phone, feeling much lighter than he had when he’d first picked it up. He goes back into the bedroom and crawls into bed as quietly as he can. Laurel rolls over and snuggles into his chest. 

“Was that Felicity?” she asks. 

Tommy can’t read her tone, but that could just be because her voice is so heavy with sleep. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“You could have,” she says. “Did you need to talk?” 

He kisses the top of her head and closes his eyes. 

“I’m alright now,” he says, truly meaning it. “Get some rest.” 

Laurel places a kiss to his heart before falling back asleep. It’s not long before he’s following suit. 


	7. Tree Houses, Confessions, and First Dates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver takes Felicity out on their first date to a familiar place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas all! I figured you could all do with a little fluff on this holiday! While it's not a Christmas fic, it's at least a light hearted one for a change ;)
> 
> Forgot to add- this one is slightly smutty. If that’s not your thing, you should probably skip this one!
> 
> This chapter takes place October 2012. A complete timeline of this series can be found here  
> ([Home Verse Timeline](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13304013))

“Ms. Smoak?” her assistant, Jackson, comes into her office. “There’s somebody here to see you—” 

“I didn’t have anything on the books,” she says, quickly glancing at the calendar she has open on her desktop. 

With her new promotion only just around the corner, the last thing she wants is for people to start thinking she’s irresponsible. There has to be some kind of mistake. She’d cleared her schedule in anticipation of the ceremony. Oliver and her had planned on having lunch afterwards to make up for the fact that he’d cancelled on her last night. Of course, that lunch never happened since Oliver brushed her off, so she’d decided to come back and hide in her office. It seemed like a better option than going home and facing Tommy’s questions. 

“This isn’t work related,” he says with a wink before leaving. She’s confused until Oliver walks in the door. 

Instantly, she crosses her arms and glares at him. She still doesn’t understand what happened earlier today or why he’d totally blown her off when she’d tried to get answers out of him. 

“What do you want? I’m working,” she says scooting closer to her desk so that she can start typing away at her keyboard and look busy. She’s totally making a mess out of her report for HR, but she can fix it later. 

Oliver closes the door before moving to sit at the chair across from her desk. 

“Felicity,” he says, clearly wanting her attention but she ignores him just like he ignored her. She’s not ready to hear his excuses or apologies right now. 

“Felicity,” he says again, using that soft tone she can never say no to. 

She looks at him, shaking her head as tears sting her eyes. She has a million questions, but there is one that keeps yelling at her the loudest. 

“Why?” she asks. 

“I need people to think that I’m still the same guy I was before,” he says. 

“Well congratulations,” she says with a roll of her eyes. He’d done more than that. He’d not only proved to people that he’s still an irresponsible manchild, he’d also made a mockery out of his father’s legacy in front of the entire press corps for no good reason. 

Why would he want people to still think he’s the same guy he was before anyway? That guy was always getting into trouble and hurting other people with his selfish indulgences. The only reason she loved Oliver back then was because she knew who he was past that entitled mask. 

He’s survived a nightmare. Of course it’s changed him. Not only is he physically different with the muscles and the scars, but he’s emotionally different, too. He’s matured. Or so she thought. Maybe that was naive of her. After all, there is still so much that she doesn’t know about Oliver and his time away. It’s not like she asked that many questions the other night and when she’d tried to talk to him about it yesterday morning, he’d been pretty tight lipped. 

“You made your entire family look like idiots,” she says when he doesn’t offer up any additional commentary. 

She’s still in disbelief at the drunken speech he’d given in front of not only his mother, but in front of poor Thea. His harsh words keep playing over and over in her mind. The guy she saw this afternoon isn’t a guy she wants to be involved with. 

“Your family,” she says, feeling an irrational rage on the Queen’s behalf. “You do remember them right? Those people that have been crying over you for five years? They deserve better.” 

“That’s not fair,” he says with a sigh. 

“ _ I’m _ not being fair?” She can’t help but laugh. As if he has any room to talk about fair after the way he treated her earlier. “What are we doing here, Oliver?” 

There are about five hundred thoughts racing through her brain right now, and it’s impossible to settle on one. There are so many things that she doesn’t understand — that she can’t make sense of — that she doesn’t know where to start. 

“I came here to explain that speech,” he says, looking adorably confused. 

No. Not adorable. He just showed up to the opening of the Robert Queen Memorial Science Center drunk off of his ass with two scantily clad women in tow. It’s unacceptable. Hadn’t he promised her that he would be monogamous? That he would never cheat on her? 

Sure, they haven’t exactly sat down and had the whole, ‘what are we?’ talk yet, but it was heavily implied that they are together now. Wasn’t that what they’d basically promised each other in all of of their confessions and conversations? That they were it? That there would be no more games— no more confusion? Had she really read everything so wrong?

Two nights ago they slept together for the first time and it was amazing. How has it taken less than 48 hours for it all to fall apart? 

She’s such an idiot. 

“I don’t want an explanation for that,” she says. “Although you  _ do _ owe your family one. I want to know what it is you think  _ we _ are doing.” 

Oliver sits up in his chair and reaches across the desk to take her hands in his. 

“I thought that was obvious the other night,” he says with a soft smile that threatens to thaw her heart. 

The other night: When they’d confessed their love for each other and spent hours making love. It had been everything she’d ever wanted and never thought she’d get. Not after the Gambit sank. The other night had been an answered prayer. 

She is about to forgive him for everything that happened today when another memory of the other night comes back to her… 

The whole thing had started because she went to confront him about his extracurricular activities. She had so many questions and never truly got her answers. She hadn’t realized it at the time, but he’d totally distracted her by kissing away all of her fears. Maybe that night hadn’t ever been about them. Maybe it was just about luring her into silence. Maybe it had all been one giant lie to keep her from going to the police. 

Felicity pulls her hands out of his. 

God, she really is an idiot. She doesn’t know anything about the man sitting in front of her. The Oliver that returned home from that island — or Russia, or where ever it was he’s spent the past five years — is still a mystery to her. 

He’d felt so real the other night. They’d connected on a deeper level and she’d truly believed that she could still see the man she fell in love with within him. Could that really have been a lie? 

“I thought things were obvious, too,” she says, standing up. She’s too wound up to sit down, so she begins pacing. “I thought we were starting something special, but I guess the joke is on me.” 

“Don’t do this,” he says, shaking his head. He stands up to walk over to her, but she steps away from him before he can reach out to her. “Let me explain.” 

“Explain what? The fact that you went out with two women last night?” she asks. “Is that why you cancelled on me? Because you found a better offer?” 

If she needs any kind of proof as to whether this man is her Oliver or not, that’s it. He’d done the one thing her Oliver never had. He’d lied to her. He’d broken a promise. 

“I didn’t go out with anyone last night,” he says, baffled. “I went…” he leans in closer, glancing around to make sure that nobody else is around, despite the fact that they are the only two people in her office and the door has already been shut. “I went on patrol. I knew it would run late and felt bad about keeping you up the entire night before, so I cancelled so that you could get some rest. That’s it.” 

She wants to believe him, she really does, but she refuses to be one of those girls who fall for their boyfriend’s bullshit. She won’t be pulled into the same games he used to play with Laurel. She’s better than that. 

“Patrol,” she says, carefully. She needs to control her temper or the entire office will hear them fighting. 

“Yeah.” 

“As the Hood?” She doesn’t know why she asks it as a question when she already knows the answer. 

“Yeah,” he says, stuffing his hands into his pockets. 

“Because you’re a vigilante,” she says, shaking her head as yet another set of questions crops up to join the other million. “That goes around  _ killing _ the rich for a reason I still don’t understand.” 

“I thought we settled this already,” he says, clearly growing frustrated with her, but that’s just fine. She’s equally as annoyed with him. 

“You telling me that the world operates in extremes isn’t an explanation,” she says. “What happened that you decided this city needed you to save it anyway?” 

“It’s a long story,” he says. 

“Of course it is,” she responds bitterly. He’s going to brush her off. “One that you’re going to continue to avoid telling me like you think, given enough time, I’m going to somehow drop it. That’s not going to happen.” 

She crosses her arms and stares him down, doing her best to look intimidating. She has the fleeting thought that perhaps challenging a man who has been terrorizing the city isn’t the best idea, but it passes. Oliver has never intimidated her before and she isn’t going to let him now. 

“I didn’t think it was,” he says. “You never could stand a mystery.” 

She doesn’t respond, waiting for him to give her an explanation. She’s not going to allow him to change the subject. 

He watches her for a few moments, sizing her up, before he visibly deflates. 

“I can’t tell you here,” he says, looking around again. “Let me take you out tonight. Somewhere special. We can talk then.” 

“Like a date?” she says, amused. Does he honestly think she’d agree to a date?

“Yeah,” he says, seriously. 

He has a lot of nerve asking her out and expecting her to say yes after the stunt he pulled today. 

“Who were those women you showed up with today?” she challenges him. 

“Nobody,” he says, shaking his head. 

She scoffs at that. At least if he’s going to cheat on her, he can have the decency to know who he’s doing it with. 

“Is that what you used to tell Laurel?” she asks. 

Oliver looks at her like he’s just been slapped. He reaches out to touch her face, but she steps out of his reach. She doesn’t want him kissing this one away. This isn’t going to become a thing. He’s not going to get into the habit of silencing her completely legitimate questions by distracting her. 

“How long did it take you to figure out my secret?” he asks. 

She does a double-take. What on Earth is he talking about and why is he changing the subject? 

“The fact that I’m the Hood,” he says, stepping in closer to her so he can speak quietly. “How long did it take you to figure it out?” 

“I don’t know,” she says. “A few days? A week maybe before I knew for sure?” 

“And how long do you think it will be before Starling City starts putting those same pieces together?” he asks. “I have to protect my secret.” 

She stares at him, trying to figure out if he’s lost his mind. Why are they back to talking about his secret?

“What does that have to do with sleeping with other women?” she asks. 

“For the record, I didn't sleep with them,” he says. “I didn’t even kiss them. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Again, she wants to believe him, but it’s hard when he’d been such a complete and utter asshole to her and really everyone this afternoon. As much as she loves Oliver and wants to trust him, there’s no denying that he has a tumultuous relationship with monogamy. 

“I need the world to see me as nothing more than an entitled, billionaire brat who’s too selfish and drunk to ever consider a life as a vigilante,” he explains. “I’m trying to protect you all. If people were to find out my secret, it wouldn’t be good for you or my family.” 

“There are other ways to protect your secret,” she says, shaking her head. “You don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not.” 

“Please just trust me on this one,” he says. “I’ve been doing this long enough to know what the repercussions of this life can be. I refuse to let anything happen to you all.” 

“What does that even mean?” she asks. 

She’s so frustrated with him and all of his vague responses. Nothing he is saying makes any sense. 

He takes her hands in his and brings them to his mouth to kiss them and despite her better judgement, she lets him. 

“Come out with me tonight,” he says. “I promise, I’ll answer your questions.” 

“A promise means something to me,” she says. 

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” 

She looks into his eyes and she can see her Oliver staring back at her. She wants to believe him so badly. She wants there to be a simple explanation for all of this. Despite everything he’s doing under the hood and the mysterious Bratva tattoo, she wants to believe he’s still a good man. She  _ had _ believed that the other night. It wasn’t until this afternoon that she’d started doubting him again. 

“I love you,” he says sincerely. “Give me a chance to help you understand.” 

“You can’t date me and parade other women around,” she tells him. It’s not a question. This isn’t up for debate. “I won’t have you out there making a fool of me.” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, dropping her hands in favor of wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. She shouldn’t, but she lets him. Probably because she’d spent five years missing his touch. If she didn’t still vividly remember how awful her life was without him, she likes to think she wouldn’t give in so easily. 

“I didn’t mean to make you question my feelings for you.” 

“I want this to work,” she whispers, looking up at him as she wraps her arms around his shoulders. 

“I do too,” he says, resting his forehead against hers. “More than you could ever know.” 

“I don’t understand why you need everyone to think you’re a jerk,” she says. “You’re not.” 

“Well that’s good to hear you say,” he says with a smile. “Because when I first walked in, I thought you were going to throw your stapler at my face.” 

“I wouldn’t throw anything at you,” she says. “Though before you got here, I was contemplating destroying your credit score.” 

He chuckles. “Thanks for refraining.”  

“I retain the right to still do it if I don’t like the answers you give me tonight,” she says. 

He leans in and places a chaste kiss to her lips. “I promise, you’ll understand what this is all for. You’ll see why it’s important.” 

She nods. 

“Will you stop by the house around 6?” he asks. “There’s something I need to do at home first and where I want to take you isn’t that far from there.” 

“Sure.” 

****

Felicity stands next to Oliver’s bodyguard, Mr. Diggle, as she waits for Oliver. He’s been kneeling in front of his father’s headstone since she arrived a few minutes ago and she hadn’t wanted to interrupt. There are two men in hard hats with shovels waiting behind him and she doesn’t know exactly what they are here for, but she has a guess. 

She leans against the car and waits another few minutes before Oliver stands up and starts walking their way. He signals for the guys to get to work on his way over. 

“Will we be going out tonight, Sir?” Mr. Diggle asks. 

Oliver looks over at her and smiles. “Why don’t you take the rest of the night off, Digg,” he says. 

“I’m afraid your mother would have something to say about that,” Mr. Diggle argues. 

“Felicity and I have no plans to leave the property,” he says, reaching out to take her hand. 

“We don’t?” she asks, curiously. 

He’d texted her about an hour ago and told her to dress comfortably and for warmth, but hadn’t elaborated any further. She’d assumed they were going to be outside doing something, but she hadn’t thought they’d be on the property. 

Oliver shakes his head mischievously as he opens the car door and grabs a bag out of the back. She recognizes the label from the numerous times she’s ordered it before: Mario’s. 

She smiles and tries to peek into the bag, but he playfully holds it out of reach. 

“At least tell me that you got a tiramisu,” she says. 

“Of course.” He places a quick kiss on her lips. “After all, I am trying to get laid.” 

Felicity laughs at that and playfully smacks his shoulder before gesturing to Mr. Diggle, who’s still watching them in amusement. 

“I’ll see you in the morning, Digg,” Oliver says, giving his bodyguard a pointed look and the man thankfully complies and walks back towards the house. 

“What’s all this?” she asks pointing towards the headstone that the workers are starting to dig up. 

“I didn’t die on that island,” he says. “I think it’s time we all stop mourning my loss.” 

She can’t tell if he means that they need to stop mourning or that he does, but it doesn’t matter. He’s right. There really isn’t a need for a grave anymore. Oliver is back. He’s home again. 

She wraps her arms around his waist and pulls him closer to her until she’s comfortably trapped between him and the car. She then pulls on his henley until his lips meet her’s in a proper greeting. 

“Hi,” she says once he breaks off the kiss. 

“Hi,” he says, a smile growing on his face. 

“Have I told you that this is a good look on you?” she asks, pulling on his henley with one hand and running her other hand through his scruff. “Very rugged.” 

Oliver blushes at her words, which is something she’ll never grow tired of seeing. 

He tugs on the hem of her sweatshirt and raises his eyebrow at her in question. 

“I’ve had this sweatshirt for twelve years, I think we’re past the point where you can even call it yours anymore,” she says, glancing down at the well worn Starling Prep lacrosse logo. 

“I hated that you used to wear this,” he confesses, causing her jaw to drop in shock. 

“What? Why?” she asks, feeling slightly hurt. 

His fingers find their way into her belt loops and he presses himself against her so that she can feel every inch of him. A pool of want heats up in her belly at how hard he already is. 

He leans over and whispers into her ear, “It made it impossible not to consider you mine.” 

He brushes her hair off of her shoulder and places a kiss at her neck. 

“Why else do you think I stole this sweatshirt?” she asks, slightly breathless. “I wanted to be yours.” 

“And now you are,” he says. 

She rubs herself against him and he groans before nibbling at her neck. At the rate that he’s going, she’s going to have several more hickeys to add to her collection. She glances over her shoulder and sees the two workers watching them. She drops her hands and pushes Oliver away before any camera phones make their way out. 

“Our pizza is getting cold,” she says by way of explanation, but her eyes don’t leave the two men still watching them. Oliver glances over at them and nods in understanding. 

“Get in,” he says, opening the passenger side door of the car. 

“I thought you told Mr. Diggle we weren’t leaving the property,” she says. 

“We aren’t,” he assures her. “But it’s a large property and I assume the grumbling of your stomach means you’d rather drive out there then make the twenty minute walk.” 

“Twenty minutes—” the question dies in her throat as realization hits her where it is that they are going. “The pond?” she asks with a shy smile. 

“I figured I’d redeem myself for the first time I tried to ask you out,” he says, helping her into the car. 

“You were trying to ask me out that night?” she says in shock. She’d had no idea. 

“The tone of surprise tells you why it was a failure,” he says with a chuckle as he turns on the car and puts it into drive. 

She reaches over and takes his hand as he begins to drive out to the edge of the property. 

“It wasn’t a total failure,” she says, squeezing his hand between both of hers. “That was the first time I realized I was in love with you.” 

He smiles at her, the same smile he gave her that night back in sixth grade and it warms her heart. 

“It was so cold, I thought my fingers were going to fall off. I’m glad you warned me to dress warm this time,” she teases. 

“Yeah, I don’t know why I decided to do that outside in the middle of February,” he says with a laugh. “Not my smartest move. Your lips were nearly blue by the time we got back in the house.” 

“I told you I hadn’t been ice skating before,” she says. “You wanted to take me.” 

“Right, but the pond wasn’t frozen over,” he says with a laugh.

“Well you didn’t know that,” she says, feeling defensive over little Oliver. That night had always been incredibly special to her. She won’t have him being too hard on himself for how it turned out. 

It doesn’t take them long to get to the pond and Felicity takes the Mario’s bag for him while he grabs some other supplies out of the trunk. They walk over to the gazebo and she smiles as Oliver sets out a blanket for them and places a picnic basket down. She forgot how much she loves it out here. They are so far away that that house can barely be seen. It’s hidden behind a hill and a line of trees. It’s nearly secluded and the view is beautiful. 

Oliver walks over to where a fancy stone fireplace has been built since the last time she was out here. 

“Where was this back in 6th grade?” she asks as he starts a fire for them. 

“I may have convinced my dad to build it back in high school,” he says. 

“So that you could bring all the ladies out here to woo?” she teases him. “Very romantic.” 

“You’re the only girl I’ve ever brought out here,” he confesses. 

She smiles warmly, not knowing what to say to something so incredibly sweet. 

“Tommy and I used to sneak out here though some nights to get high away from the house.” 

“And you were doing so well up until then,” she teases him. “Next time, leave out the part about you getting high and stick with the ‘this is our special place’ line.” 

“Noted,” he says as they both take a seat and he serves up the pizza. 

They spend the next half hour laughing and reminiscing over childhood memories while they eat. As far as first dates go, it’s perfect. Oliver is more relaxed that she’s seen him be since returning home and she can’t help but enjoy the way he laughs over the story of her first time sledding. She’d missed that laugh. As she steals the crust off of his plate and he playfully teases her for it, she can see the next several years of their life laid out before her and it doesn’t scare her. There’s a feeling deep in her gut that this is right. 

This is home. 

No matter what Oliver has been through or why he’s dressing up in green leather and trying to save the city, they’ll get through it. Of that she is certain. She loves him too much to let anything come between them. 

When the pizza is gone and she starts cleaning up their plates, she notices Oliver grows quiet. She takes her time cleaning up, giving him time with his thoughts. She puts the tiramisu aside for later and then walks their trash to the garbage can over by the pond. All the while, Oliver doesn't say a word. She stands by the pond a few minutes, looking out at the water, giving him space. She knows him well enough to know that he’ll come to her when he’s ready. 

It takes another ten minutes, but sure enough, he walks over to her and takes her hand before leading her back to sit on the blanket. She settles against his side and places her head on his shoulder as he clears his throat to talk. 

“I didn’t realize how hard it would be to come home,” he admits. 

She bites her lip to keep from speaking out. Whatever he has to say, he’s taken his time coming up with the right words and she doesn’t want to ruin that. 

“I spent a long time thinking about my return and what things would be like once I made it back,” he says. “I didn’t think about how difficult it would be to reconnect with everyone again… Being back here has been a lot more difficult than I thought it would be. People expect me to be somebody that I’m not anymore. And when they realize that, everyone wants to know what I’ve been through and what it was like. I’m not ready to talk about it. My time away was hell and so much of what I went through is tied to the Hood and I can’t tell anyone about that. I didn’t think keeping so many secrets would be as difficult as it has been. I didn’t realize how many questions everyone would have.”  

She hums to let him know that she’s listening without interrupting. What he’s saying makes sense. She can only imagine how overwhelming coming home has to be. She knows that they are all guilty of assuming too much. Of being disappointed to find out that Oliver has changed — that he’s more quiet and closed off now. She’s guilty of asking too many questions and not giving him the space he needs to adjust. She gets why he might be having a hard time, even if she can’t truly understand how he’s feeling. 

“I’m glad you know,” he says. “As scared as it makes me for you to know about the Hood, it’s nice to have one person in my life I don’t have to lie to anymore.” 

“What scares you about me knowing?” she asks once she’s sure he’s done talking. 

“People around me…” he trails off, uncomfortable with whatever it is he’s about to say. “They tend to get hurt or worse. I’m terrified that something is going to happen to you because of who I am and the life I lead.” 

“Then why lead it?” she asks, a lump forming in her throat at the thought of all the danger Oliver is putting himself in. She doesn’t understand why he’d risk his life when they’ve only just gotten him back. Doesn’t he understand what they went through when he died? 

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” he says simply. 

She sits up and turns to look at him in question. She doesn’t understand. What is the right thing to do? What is it that he’s doing? 

He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a small, well worn notebook and hands it to her. 

“What is this?” she asks, taking the notebook from him. She assumes that it’s one of his old journals that he used to keep. Maybe he’d found a way to continue journaling while he was away. 

“It was my dad’s,” Oliver says. “Open it.” 

She opens the notebook, but all she sees is a list of names. She turns the page and frowns, a few of the names have been crossed off: Adam Hunt. Marcus Redman. Martin Sommers. They are all names of men that the Hood has gone after. 

“Is this a hit list?” she asks in shock. Why on Earth would Robert Queen have a list of names that Oliver is hunting down? 

“It’s a list of people who have failed this city,” he says, his face darkening. “The worst of the worst.” 

“Why don’t you turn it over to the cops?” she asks, studying the list closer. There are a lot of familiar names on the list — all awful people, despite the face they may put on for society. 

“The cops know about these men,” he argues. “They’ve done nothing. Don’t you see?” 

“See what?” she asks, handing him the notebook back. 

“My father gave me this list because he wanted me to save this city,” he says. “This list is his legacy. I can’t do nothing. I have to right his wrongs.” 

“What were his wrongs?” she asks. She knows that Oliver thinks he’s just handed her the answer to all of her questions, but all he’s really done is create several more. “How did he know all of this stuff about these people?” 

“I didn’t have a lot of time for answers before he…” 

“Before he died,” she finishes his sentence for him. She has spent a lot of time thinking about what it must have been like for Oliver to be the only one to survive the Gambit. It had to have been horrible for him. 

“He told me that he’d failed this city. That he’d done something horrible and in an effort to make it better, he’d aligned himself with terrible people…” he holds up the notebook. 

“So that’s your master plan? To take out all of the names on that list?” she asks. 

“They can’t be allowed to continue to feed off of this city like parasites,” he says. “If the police won’t take them out, I will.” 

“Okay,” she says, trying to process all of this. 

“You don’t have to be a part of this,” he says. “I know you offered to help, but I can do this on my own.” 

She shakes her head. She may not understand everything yet. She will definitely need some more time to process, but one thing is clear: This has now become her mission as well. She can’t let him do this alone. Without help, he’s likely to get himself killed. 

“I know some of those names,” she says. “I grew up in the Glades, I know how those men conspire to make themselves rich no matter the cost. If you’re taking them down, then I’m doing it with you.” 

“You’re tech support, nothing more,” he says firmly. “I won’t train you to fight.” 

She raises her hands up in surrender. “Hey, I want none of the archery business. That’s all on you, Robin Hood.” 

He rolls his eyes but the small smile on his lips gives him away. 

“You like that name then, huh?” she asks. “The Hood?” 

He shrugs. “It’s intimidating, which is what I’m going for.” 

“It’s not very superhero-y,” she argues. 

“Well I’m not a superhero,” he says with a smirk. 

“Yet,” she replies, crawling over until she’s straddling him. “Don’t worry,” she says playing with the buttons on his henley. “I’ll get you there.” 

He opens his mouth to protest, but whatever he’s about to say she silences with a kiss. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and opens her mouth to allow his tongue access. Oliver doesn’t need any further invitation, his tongue makes its way into her mouth and she can’t help but moan at the contact. 

She doesn’t think she’ll ever grow tired of kissing him. His lips are like heaven. Perhaps it’s because he’s that skilled of a kisser, or perhaps it’s because she’s waited over half of her life for him, but she can’t get enough. 

He wraps his arms around her waist and flips them over effortlessly, so that she’s on her back and he’s laying between her legs. 

“Impressive,” she says as his lips move away from her own and make their way down her neck. She moans when his hand finds its way under her shirt and begins tracing patterns on her stomach. 

“Nothing visible this time,” she reprimands him when he starts to seriously go to town on her neck. 

He pulls back and smirks down at her in a way that can’t be legal. He has plans and she’s eager to see what they are. 

“Nothing visible,” he says, moving down her body. “Got it.” 

He lifts her shirt up to her chest and she shivers as the cool air hits her. However, the chill doesn’t last long, because soon he’s placing warm kisses all over her stomach, lighting a fire in her. 

She thrusts up against him, chasing after some kind of relief as need pools in her core and her panties soak through with desire. 

“Oliver,” she whines when his hands begin playing with her nipples through her bra. 

She pulls at his hair, unsure if she needs him to stop or give her more.

His lips make it to her waist and he undoes the top button of her jeans and slides the zipper down with his teeth. 

“More, yes, please,” she says as his other hand continues to play with her nipple. 

Oliver licks along the band of her underwear and a shiver of anticipation runs through her, soaking her through even more. There's no way he can’t smell how much she needs him. She holds onto him with one hand while the other hand tries to push her jeans out of the way. Oliver grabs onto her wrist and guides her hand under the waistband of her underwear. 

She looks down at him in question and he smiles up at her. 

“Touch yourself,” he commands, and really being bossed around by him shouldn’t turn her on as much as it does.

She runs her fingers through her folds and confirms what she already knew — she’s beyond wet. Her palm brushes against her clit and she bites her lower lip to hold back a moan. The angle isn’t great and the jeans still around her waist make it somewhat constricting, but she manages to rub herself a few times before Oliver pulls her wrist out of her pants. 

“What are you—” her protest is cut off as he takes each of her soaking wet fingers into his mouth, one by one, and licks her clean. 

“Oliver,” she whines. 

She needs more. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to be in the teasing mood like he was the other night. She doesn’t know if she could take it again. His hand find its way into her waistband and she can’t help but cry out loudly when his fingers make their way through her folds. 

“Yes!” she calls out and he swallows her next moan with a deep kiss. 

Oliver is very skilled with his hands and a quick study. He figures out what she likes quickly and uses that to bring her to the edge in record time. It doesn’t take but a few minutes of them kissing while Oliver fingers her before her orgasm hits. 

“Fuck,” she whispers once she starts to come down. 

Another minute later and the cool breeze against her skin stops feeling refreshing and she starts to shiver. She reaches up to pull her sweatshirt down before buttoning her jeans. 

Felicity looks over at Oliver, and he’s watching her, but he’s a million miles away. She reaches out and puts her hand against his cheek. He instantly nuzzles into the touch. 

“Where did you go?” she asks. 

He shakes his head and leans over to give her a quick kiss. 

“I could watch you do that forever,” he says. 

“Well that’s good,” she says with a laugh. “Because I really enjoy it.” 

She pushes on his shoulder until he’s rolling onto his back and she straddles him. Now it’s her turn to play. 

She’s just lifting his shirt up when a large snapping sound echoes through the air. In a single, fluid motion, Oliver rolls out from under her and stands up. His entire body is tense, like he’s prepared for a fight. 

“What is it?” she whispers, suddenly anxious as she sits up and looks around for any sign of danger. 

He shakes his head, also looking around. “Stay here,” he orders before he heads off to investigate. 

Once he’s out of sight and lost to the darkness of the night, she starts truly feeling scared. If there really is something out there, Oliver isn’t here to protect her and she knows very little self defense. She curses herself for turning Tommy down when he’d offered to teach her some basics. At the time, she’d been content with the mace on her keychain. 

Mace. 

She has mace. 

She scrambles for her purse and digs around for her keys before pulling them out triumphantly. She then stands up and holds the mace out, ready for attack. 

She listens carefully for any sign of moment but doesn’t hear anything. She spins around in a circle before deciding to keep her back to the pond and focus her attention outward. If an attack is coming, it’s most likely from this direction. 

She continually scans the field for any sign of movement, but it’s difficult. It’s now pitch black outside and the only source of light is coming from the fireplace behind her. 

A hand grabs onto her outstretched arm and she screams, instantly spraying the mace before turning and seeing Oliver looking down at her, fighting back a laugh. 

“This is why you aren’t allowed in the field,” he says. 

She wants to protest, but as the wind begins blowing the mace back at them and she starts coughing, she doesn’t have much of an argument. Oliver grabs onto her hand and walks her over to the dock to escape the mace she’s just accidentally sprayed. 

“What were you doing, anyway?” he asks, amused. 

She glares at him. This is hardly funny. “I don't know,” she grumbles. “You just left me all alone, I had to do something to defend myself.” 

“I didn’t leave you alone,” he says. “Nothing would have gotten close enough to you to hurt you. I could see you the whole time.” 

“Well that’s a relief,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Next time, clue me in, okay?” 

“Whatever you say, Honey,” he teases her as he tugs on her hand and they start walking around the pond. 

“What was it anyway?” she asks. 

“Some photographer hopped the fence,” he explains. “Security already had it handled.” 

“Well their big money maker, Ollie Queen, is back in action,” she says, bitterly as she remembers what he’d done this afternoon at the ceremony. It’s no wonder a photographer was already trespassing in search of a money shot. He’d basically rolled out the red carpet for them with his little stunt. “What did you expect?” 

“Felicity,” he says, sounding wounded. “You know that’s just for show. That’s not who I am. Not anymore.” 

She does know that. At least, she thinks she does. Tonight has gone a long way to convince her as much. She just doesn’t understand why she’s the only one that gets to see the real Oliver Queen while the rest of the world has to go on believing his an asshole. 

“Why do you have to lie about it?” she asks. “Isn’t there another way?” 

Oliver sighs and doesn’t respond right away. They continue walking around the pond in silence. It takes a few minutes, but Oliver does finally speak up. 

“I had a teacher…” his voice sounds strained—emotional. He stops to cough. When he speaks up again, his voice is more clear. Still, she squeezes his hand in support as he continues. 

“One of my years away, I had a teacher who had a family of his own: a wife and a son. We went after these bad guys and when they found out who we were, they retaliated by going after his wife and child.” 

She wants to ask who ‘they’ are. She wants to ask why he was going after bad guys or why he had a teacher in the first place, but she can tell there’s more to Oliver’s story and so she files her questions away for later. 

“What happened?” she asks, nervous to hear the rest of the story if the way Oliver’s entire body is tensing up is any indication. She sincerely hopes this story has a happy ending, but doubts it will. 

“His son escaped, but his wife got kidnapped. We were lucky. We were able to find her and rescue her, but it was close,” he says. “We could have just as easily lost her.”

“But you didn’t,” she says, confused. It sounds like a happy ending, but he looks like he’s about to cry. 

“Oliver?” she asks. 

“A few months later, their son died while we were working on something together,” he admits. “He shouldn’t have been there. They should have been back in Japan already, but they weren’t and he died…” 

She pauses and tugs on his arm to get him to stop walking. He falls into her arms and nearly knocks her over with the force of it, but she manages to stay upright. She hugs him tightly as he buries his face in her neck. She can feel his tears against her skin even if he’s doing he damndest to hide the fact that he’s crying. 

“Those people in that picture I found,” she says, thinking back to the photo she’s found in his bunker, the one he hadn’t wanted her looking at. “That was your teacher and his family,” she says. 

He nods. 

“I would lose my mind if anything ever happened to you or anyone in my family,” he says, squeezing her so tightly that it’s difficult to breathe. “Nobody can find out my secret.” 

She pulls away from him to look into his eyes. “But—” 

“Nobody,” he cuts her off before she can argue with him. “Keeping my identity secret is the most important thing I can do to keep you all safe. If I have to make myself look bad in the eyes of the public in order to make sure that people never connect me with The Hood? I’ll do it, because I can’t lose anyone else.” 

She wants to argue with him that there has to be a better way, but she won’t. She can see the devastation in his eyes. He needs this. 

“I still don’t like it,” she says. 

“Felicity—” 

“No,” she cuts him off. “I don’t like it. I feel like there’s another way to keep your secret without this whole charade, but…” 

“But?” he asks, looking at her hopefully. 

“But I understand that you feel it’s necessary, so I’ll learn to deal with it,” she says. 

“Thank you,” he says, tugging on her hand and they both start walking again. 

They make it about halfway around the pond before he pulls her over towards a tree and when she looks at it, she can’t help but laugh. 

“I can’t believe you still have this,” she says, looking up at the treehouse that Robert and Oliver had built when he was young. “Hasn’t this been condemned yet?” she teases. 

Oliver laughs. “No, but it probably should be. Which is why you’re going to wait down here.” 

“Why?” she asks, but it’s too late, he’s already climbing up the tree and disappearing out of sight. 

“If I get eaten by a bear while you’re up there staring at your old Baby Spice poster, I’m going to be mad,” she calls after him. 

He pokes his head out of one of the treehouse’s windows. “There aren’t any bears out here,” he says with a smirk. “Just give me a minute.” 

“What are you doing anyway?” she calls after him. 

“This,” he says, tossing a shoebox down at her like she’s supposed to somehow catch it. She doesn’t. It slips right through her hands and falls to the ground. She leans over to pick it up as Oliver jumps from the top of the house to the ground in what can only be described as a superhero landing. 

“Show off,” she says as he comes to stand in front of her. He holds up his cellphone and uses it as a flashlight. 

“Open it,” he says. 

She removes the lid and peeks inside. On top is their fifth grade class photo. She holds it up into the light and can’t help but laugh. 

“What was Tommy wearing?” she asks, pointing at the hideous sweater he had on. “We have to give him hell for this. Who dressed him?” 

“I believe he dressed himself,” Oliver says with a laugh, taking the picture from her. “Keep looking.” 

She takes the next item out of the box and smiles. It’s a birthday card she’d made for him when they were in second grade. She reads the message she’d written in and laughs at the way the word love has been crossed out with blue crayon. She shows it to him and he shakes his head. 

“Tommy crossed it out,” he says. 

“Sure,” she teases, pulling the next item out. It’s an old TLC album. “Oh my gosh! We used to be obsessed with this!”

“You were,” he says, leading her over to sit against the tree. “I just listened to it because it made you happy.” 

“I tried so hard to do all the Left-Eye parts,” she says with a laugh. 

“You were not meant to be a rapper,” he says, wrapping his arm around her as she cuddles in for warmth. “Your mom however…”

“Don’t remind me,” she groans. “What is this box?” She asks, digging around to take a peek at the other contents. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck like he does when he’s embarrassed.

She pulls out more items and realizes that everything in the box is somehow related to a memory of the two of them together as kids. 

“You have a Felicity box?” she asks, looking up at him in wonder. It still hasn’t sunk in that he’s loved her this whole time. 

Oliver reaches into the box and digs around for a few seconds before pulling out a folded up piece of notebook paper. He hands it to her. 

She takes it from him, expecting it to be one of the notes they used to pass back and forth in the hallway the year they were put in separate classrooms. She unfolds it and begins to read. 

_ You smile at me and the whole world falls away.  _

_ I look forward to seeing you each and every day.  _

_ I’ve wanted to tell you for so long but never know what to say.  _

_ I’ve been in love with you from the very first ‘hey.’ _

“What is this?” she asks. She’s never read it before, but it’s unmistakably Oliver’s handwriting. 

Oliver clears his throat and even in the dark she can see him blushing. 

“Oliver?”

“I wrote that for you in sixth grade,” he says. “It’s horrible, I know. I’m not exactly a poet, but we’d been working on poetry in English and I was trying so hard to find a way to tell you how I felt. This seemed like it.” 

“But you never gave it to me,” she says, confused. This is something she certainly would have remembered. 

“I meant to give it to you on Valentine’s Day,” he says. “But I got nervous and started thinking of all the ways I could mess everything up, so I never gave it to you.” 

“You kept it, though?” 

“I told myself it was a reminder of why I couldn’t ever ask you out,” he says. “But I think I was just waiting for the right moment to give it to you.” 

She smiles up at him and kisses him while holding the precious poem to her heart. 

“Our first date is the perfect moment,” she says. “Thank you.” 

“Thank  _ you _ for not judging the bad writing,” he says with a relieved laugh. 

“It might not win you any awards, but the thought was there,” she says, kissing him again. “Plus it’ll get you laid, which is way better than any award.” 

Oliver laughs and kisses her one last time before putting everything back in the box and pulling them to their feet. He moves to go back up the tree, but she grabs his wrist. 

“What are you doing?” she asks. 

“I was gonna put this away so we could head back. I’m sure you’re ready for dessert,” he says. 

“No,” she says. “Well yes to the dessert part. But no, don’t put it back. We should keep it.” 

Oliver looks down at the box in his hands then back up at her, confused. 

“We don’t have to hide our feelings in boxes anymore,” she says, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I think it’s adorable that you still have all this stuff, don’t stuff it away for nobody to see.” 

He smiles down at her and nods his head. 

“No more hiding,” he agrees. 

They walk hand in hand around the pond until they are back at the gazebo. She then waits by the car as Oliver puts out the fire and gathers up their stuff. He walks over to the car and hands her the Mario’s bag. 

“Ready to go inside and have that dessert?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” she agrees. “But before dessert, I wouldn’t say no to some tiramisu.” 


	8. Stargazing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Tommy sneak away to the planetarium to take in the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, Tommy just calls to me and I had to write it. So enjoy a little early Toliver...
> 
> This chapter takes place December 1999. A complete timeline of this series can be found here  
> ([Home Verse Timeline](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13304013))

Tommy lays on the couch in the basement only half watching the video game that his friends are playing. His mind is still stuck on the argument that he’d had with his dad that morning. Tommy wants to go to Boston for Christmas to spend some time with his mom’s side of the family, but his father is demanding he fly to London with him. Tommy doesn’t understand why it’s so important to his father. He’s going to be working the entire trip anyway, it’s not like they are going to spend any quality time together. It’s not like they  _ ever _ spend any quality time together. 

Ollie is sitting on the other side of the couch staring at his phone looking about as happy as Tommy feels. He’s playing Snake, but Tommy knows that he’s really just waiting for Felicity to call him like she does every night. She’s been gone a year and still, Ollie is just as obsessed with her as he’s always been. 

Tommy kicks Ollie to get his attention. 

“What?” Ollie asks, annoyed, as he looks up. 

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks. “I would have thought you’d be in a better mood considering Annabelle asked you out today.” 

Ollie shrugs and goes back to staring down at his phone. 

Tommy looks over at their other friends. Everyone else is too invested in the game to be paying either of them much mind. Tommy rolls off the couch and walks over to the bar. His father has started locking the cabinets to keep him away from the liquor, but Tommy’s learned how to get them open. 

He takes his wallet out of his back pocket, pulls out a credit card, and begins the process of unlocking the cabinet door. 

It doesn’t take long for Ollie to come over and join him. He always rises with the promise of alcohol. Ollie hops up on the counter as he waits for Tommy to get the door open. Once he does, Tommy pulls out an already opened bottle of tequila and makes a mental note of where the bottle is at. So long as he fills it with water and puts it back, his dad never has to know. This stuff is mostly for guests anyway. His dad usually sticks to scotch. 

Tommy passes the bottle to Ollie who unscrews the top and takes a large swig before handing it over to him. 

“Today is the day she moved last year,” Ollie says. 

Tommy grimaces, not needing to ask who  _ she _ is: Felicity. Suddenly, he understands why Ollie’s been so moody all day. 

“Sorry, man,” he says, taking a large swig of his own. Apparently they’ve both had shitty days. “Wanna ditch?” 

Ollie looks over at their friends. “Aren’t you entertaining?” he asks with a raise of his eyebrow. 

“Who cares,” Tommy says, waving them off. He’d invited the guys all over in the hopes that it would provide a distraction, but all they’ve wanted to do all night is play Quake III: Arena. He should have invited the girls over instead. 

“They’ve barely looked up from that game in hours. They won’t even notice we’re gone,” Tommy says. 

Ollie doesn’t disagree with him. Ollie grabs the bottle out of his hand and hops off the counter. Tommy follows him up the stairs and out to the garage. He’d thought they would just hang out in his room away from everyone else, but clearly Ollie has other ideas. 

“My dad will kill me if I take one of his cars out for a joy ride again,” he says, taking the bottle from Ollie and drinking. 

“I told you to do it when he was out of town so you wouldn’t get caught,” Ollie says. 

Tommy shrugs. He isn’t willing to admit it, but he’d purposefully done it to get caught. He’d found out that his dad was sleeping with his masseuse and he’d been pissed off. So he’d taken his dad’s precious Ferrari out for a spin. Getting grounded for it had been worth it to see the look on his dad’s face when Tommy told him that he knew he was sleeping with somebody. 

“Whatever,” Ollie says. “Call one of your drivers then.” 

“Why?” Tommy asks, though he’s already pulling his phone out to make the call. “Where are we going?” 

Ollie just shrugs, but Tommy can see he’s clearly got something specific planned. 

“Yeah, Enrique, I need a car,” he says once his driver picks up. 

Tommy waits for confirmation before he hangs up the phone. He then takes another long swig from the bottle before handing it back to Ollie. 

“He’ll be here in five minutes,” Tommy says. “If we are going somewhere, we should grab another bottle.” 

“No need,” Ollie says. “I’ve got something better.” 

Ollie pulls a bag out of his pocket and tosses it at him. Tommy catches it and stares down at it. He’s pretty sure that it’s a joint, but seeing as he’s never seen one before, he can’t be certain. 

“Where did you get this?” he asks. He’s not going to lie, he’s a little concerned. Usually he’s the one corrupting Ollie, not the other way around. 

“One of the staff sold it to me,” he says. “I told them I was looking for something to take the edge off. They said it’s better than booze.” 

Tommy looks into the bag curiously. They’ve both been drinking since seventh grade, but had only just recently switched over to liquor instead of beer. Tommy’s enjoyed the way it makes him feel all warm inside and makes all the bad stuff go away. If there’s a feeling better than that, he’ll happily chase it. 

“Do you even know how to smoke?” he asks, tossing the bag back to Ollie. 

“What’s to get?” Ollie asks. “You light it, you smoke it. It’s not rocket science.” 

Tommy guesses that’s fair. It can’t be that complicated. He’s seen people get high in movies. He understands the gist. 

They both step outside and wait for Enrique to show up with the car. 

“My dad wants me to go to London with him for Christmas,” he says, leaning against the garage door. 

“Tell him to fuck off,” Ollie says. 

“I did,” he says. “He didn’t care.”

“We aren’t going anywhere this year. You can stay with us,” Ollie says. 

“I don’t think lack of supervision is the issue. I told him I wanted to go to Boston for Christmas but I don’t get a choice,” he says bitterly. 

“What does Malcolm have against your grandparents anyway?” Ollie asks. “Have you even seen them since your mom’s funeral?” 

“Once,” he says. 

His grandparents came to visit him for Easter the year after his mom died when he was basically living with the Queens. His dad found out though and had been livid. Apparently something happened between them because his grandparents haven’t been back since. They call, but it’s not the same. He tries to pretend that it doesn’t upset him as much as it does. 

“That sucks, man,” Ollie says, reaching out to pat him on the back. 

“It’s whatever,” Tommy says, shrugging off his concern. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate it, he does. He just doesn’t want to get into it right now for fear that he may actually cry. 

Enrique pulls up and they both get into the car as Ollie directs him towards the planetarium. 

“Pretty sure it’s closed, Buddy,” Tommy says. 

“Don’t tell me you’re suddenly a goody-goody,” Ollie says. “You’re the one who taught me how to break in.” 

Tommy rolls his eyes, but doesn’t protest any further. They are going to get arrested. Again. But Tommy isn’t that concerned. His dad will bail him out. Or Ollie’s dad will. Either way, he’s along for whatever ride Ollie has in store for him. 

They arrive at the planetarium and they walk around the building until they find an office window in the back of the building that’s been left unlocked. Tommy pries the thing open and they both crawl through before shutting it behind them. 

“I thought that would be harder than it was,” Tommy says, brushing off his pants. 

“It’s like they wanted us to break in,” Ollie agrees as they both head out of the office and towards the actual planetarium. 

“So what are we doing here anyway?” Tommy asks as they find their way to the main floor. 

His head is starting to swim from the tequila and he feels nice and warm all over. It makes the stress of the day melt away, leaving him feeling invincible. This is why he drinks. 

“Ollie,” Tommy says when he doesn’t answer him. 

Yet again, Ollie doesn’t respond. He’s lost in his own world, like always. Ollie wanders over to the map with a determined look on his face. It’s obvious he’s looking for something specific. Once he finds it, he takes off down the hall and Tommy has to rush to keep up with him. He doesn’t stop until they’ve reached some special exhibit on the moon landing. 

The world spins a bit on its axis and Tommy has to take a minute to center himself. Once he does, he looks up to see that Ollie has hopped behind one of the railings meant to keep visitors out. 

Yeah. They’re totally getting arrested. 

Tommy swallows down the remaining tequila and tosses the bottle aside before climbing over the railing himself. 

“What are we doing?” he asks as Ollie settles against the weird space ship thing and pulls the bag out of his pocket. 

Ollie nods towards the ship. “This is Apollo 11. It was the first ship to land man on the moon,” he says. 

Tommy snorts. “And you know this because…” 

“Felicity told me it was coming here,” he says. “She wanted to see it.” 

Yes. And suddenly them being here makes a whole lot more sense. Ollie’s actions are almost always motivated by one of two things: his love for Felicity or his desire not to become his father. The breaking and entering could have been another way to stick it to his father and his high expectations, but the fact that they are at a museum that Felicity had told Ollie about? Clearly, she’s the culprit. 

Tommy can only sigh. He doesn’t understand the appeal. Tommy’s never felt that way about anyone. Sure, he has crushes. He has older women that he enjoys chasing after and the occasional classmate, but that’s not the same. He gets over the girls he likes fairly quickly and with little pain. Often, once he realizes they’re with him for little more than his name and trust fund. Ollie’s been apart from Felicity for a year and still, his love for her hasn’t diminished even a bit. Tommy feels bad for the guy. Love seems like a bitch. 

“I guessing Ms. Rule-Follower would have preferred if we came during business hours,” Tommy says with a laugh. 

“Well she’s not here to stop us,” he says, sounding more bitter than Tommy’s heard him sound in a long time. 

“Ollie...” Tommy says, concerned. 

He just shrugs. “It’s fine. Whatever. I don’t care.” 

Ollie has never been a good liar, but he lets it go. Ollie pulls the joint out of the bag and holds it out to Tommy. He takes it and Ollie begins digging around for a lighter. 

“Do you ever think that maybe it’s time to move on from her?” Tommy asks as Ollie finds the lighter and takes the joint back. Practically everyone is in love with Ollie. He could have any girl in their class, and likely a few upperclassmen. The problem is that every girl he goes out with quickly learns that his heart already belongs to another. 

“Every damn day,” he says as he lights the joint and breathes in his first hit. Instantly, Ollie starts coughing heavily. 

“That bad?” Tommy asks, slapping Ollie on the back. 

Ollie shakes his head and holds it out to him. “I think I just have to get used to it.” 

Tommy puts the joint between his lips and breathes in just a bit of it, not wanting to take in too much like Ollie had. It burns his throat, but it’s not a bad feeling. He takes another breath, deeper this time and lets the smoke fill his lungs for a few seconds before breathing out. He coughs a bit as some of the smoke lingers behind, but overall, it’s not awful. 

He hands it back to Ollie and relaxes against the tiny little ship and looks out over the rest of the exhibit. There is a whole section set up with an astronaut planting a flag on what’s supposed to be the moon, but just looks like white sand. The ceiling is all black with LED stars and to the right of them is a large picture of the Earth as it would look from the moon. 

It’s actually kind of romantic. He can see himself bringing a girl here one day. It’s the perfect place to mess around. A bottle of wine, a picnic dinner, the threat of being caught… No girl would turn him down. 

“If you brought Felicity here, you’d totally get laid,” he says and Ollie smacks him. “What?” 

“I won’t be bringing Felicity anywhere,” he says. “She lives too far away.” 

Tommy rolls his eyes. So Ollie is going to be a depressed drunk tonight. Awesome. 

Ollie’s phone goes off and he passes Tommy the joint back before he hops over the railing and walks away to talk to Felicity in private. He wonders if Felicity will be able to tell that Ollie is drunk and how she’ll react. Hopefully she doesn’t notice. If she lectures Ollie or tells him that she’s disappointed in him, Ollie’s mood will be even worse. 

Tommy reaches up for the railing and uses it as support to stand up. The liquor has made its way through his veins and he’s feeling the effects. He slowly crawls over the railing, careful not to fall flat on his face. Once he’s successfully on the other side, he walks over to go lay in the sand. 

Tommy takes another hit, closing his eyes to savor the feeling of the smoke in his lungs before he breathes it out. When he opens his eyes, all he can see are the stars. It makes him think of his mom. When she’d died, his grandmother had told him that if he ever felt alone, all he had to do was look at the stars and he’d find her. Now, he’s pretty sure all that is a load of shit, but seeing the stars still helps him feel connected to her all the same. 

He takes a few more drags from the joint before he melts away into the sand. 

“I don’t know why he’s gotta be such a dick,” Tommy whispers, only loud enough for her to hear. 

He closes his eyes and pictures her face. The way she used to look when she was putting him to bed. Her hair would still be up in the ponytail she only ever wore to work and her scrubs would still be dirty from whatever patients she’d treated that day. 

“He just wants to be with his son on Christmas,” he imagines her telling him. 

It’s what Tommy wishes were the truth, but it’s hard to believe. If his father really wanted him around, wouldn’t he pay more attention to Tommy whenever he’s home? 

Tommy shakes his head as tears fill his eyes. His dad doesn’t love him. He’s not sure anyone really loves him. 

“I want to be with  _ you _ on Christmas,” he whispers. 

It’s why he’d asked to go to Boston. He’s been feeling her loss weighing heavy on his heart recently and he doesn't know how to make it stop. He thought that being near her family might help ease some of the ache. He can feel himself starting to forget her. Just last week he’d realized he no longer remembers the sound of her laugh. Things are starting to fade. He’d hoped visiting her childhood home would bring some of those memories back. 

He puts the joint between his lips and starts to breathe in, but it’s ripped from his lips. 

Tommy opens his eyes and glares at Ollie and his smug expression. 

“You’re a jackass,” Tommy says as Ollie takes a drag from the joint. 

“Are you stargazing?” Ollie teases him. He sits down next to him. 

Tommy yanks the joint out of his hand. He resumes the hit he’d started before he’d been so rudely interrupted. 

“How’s your girlfriend?” Tommy asks, knowing it’ll piss Ollie off. 

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he grumbles. “What’s up your ass?” 

“You’re being a jerk,” Tommy says. “I wasn’t stargazing, I was talking to my mom.” 

Instantly, Ollie’s smirk disappears. He doesn’t say anything, but lays down next to Tommy and stares up at the stars. 

They lay like that for several minutes, passing the joint back and forth between each other. When Ollie rolls over onto his side and starts running his hand up and down Tommy’s arm, commenting about how soft his sweater is, Tommy realizes it’s time to stop smoking. Ollie is clearly high enough and Tommy’s been feeling that nice buzz long enough to stop. He puts the joint out using the bottom of his shoe and puts it in his pocket for later. 

Tommy has to admit, whoever gave Ollie the joint in the first place was right — this is a much better feeling than drinking. He’s 100% relaxed. He can’t tell where his body ends and where the sand begins. It all feels like one. His brain is beautifully blank. He can still access his memories and his thoughts, but he can’t feel anything about them. He’s not angry or sad, he just is. 

Ollie continues to rub his arm and it just might send Tommy into slumber. He closes his eyes and enjoys the comfort that his touch brings. Tommy doesn’t get touched like this often anymore. His dad hasn’t come near him in years. The girls he’s with touch him in much different ways and rarely stick around long enough for things like comforting caresses. Moira makes it a point to hug him whenever she sees him, but that’s it. 

He bites his lip to keep himself from mentioning how good the touch feels. He doesn’t want Ollie to read too much into it. 

There’s a memory sitting at the back of his mind trying to break through, but it’s blocked. He gets this feeling deep in his gut that his mom used to do this to him, but he can’t remember where or when. This is happening too often lately when it comes to her. There’s a wall being built in his mind blocking his memories of her from breaking through. He’s terrified of the frequency in which memories are slipping away. 

“Do you remember my mom?” he asks Ollie. 

Ollie doesn’t respond right away. He’s never one with words, but Tommy knows that when it matters, he tries to be. This is one of those times where Ollie truly thinks before he speaks. 

“I remember she used to make us cinnamon rolls whenever I would stay over,” Ollie says. “Not that she would have the staff make them, like my mom. Your mom would actually make them herself and they were good.” 

Tommy smiles, he takes a deep breath and he can almost smell the warm icing and cinnamon bread. He’d forgotten about that, but suddenly it all comes rushing back to him. The smell, the taste, how she’d watch them both with a smile over her morning cup of coffee. 

“She knew they were your favorite,” Tommy says. 

“She loved you,” Ollie says, and Tommy doesn’t mean to, but suddenly tears come to his eyes and he has to close them tight to keep them from falling. 

Even though he knows it’s true, he still yearns to hear her tell him that one more time. It’s been awhile since anyone has said those words to him and meant them. 

“Tommy?” Ollie asks. 

He shakes his head and closes his eyes tighter, scared to say anything for fear of losing it. Ollie reaches down to grab onto his hand. Tommy squeezes it tight. 

“Your dad loves you, too,” Ollie says. “Even if he’s awful at showing it.” 

“He doesn’t,” Tommy squeaks out, bringing up his free hand to wipe his eyes. 

“He does,” he says. “I promise you he does.” 

Tommy looks over at Ollie, trying to figure out how honest he wants to be with his best friend. They’ve shared a lot, and Tommy’s pretty sure that Ollie’s guessed as much, but he’s never shared this. 

“He barely talks to me anymore,” Tommy whispers. “He told me the other night that looking at me just reminds him of her. He might have loved me before, but he doesn’t anymore.” 

Ollie’s eyes start to water and he squeezes Tommy’s hand in support. “Well I love you. Fuck him.” 

“Yeah,” Tommy says, looking back up at the stars. “Fuck him.” 

They both sit there for what could be minutes or hours. Time is starting to slip away from him as his body grows deliciously numb. This is a high Tommy could get used to. 

“Mrs. Merlyn,” Ollie whispers. Tommy looks over to see Ollie staring up at the stars with an intense look of concentration. “Could you get Malcolm to stop being an asshole?” 

Tommy smiles at his friend. 

“I don’t think anything short of her coming back from the dead will fix that,” Tommy says. 

His dad’s been miserable to be around ever since his mom died. Tommy doesn’t see that changing anytime soon. 

“Does your skin feel like it’s tingling?” Ollie asks. “Do your teeth hurt?” 

“No,” Tommy says, unable to hold back a chuckle as Ollie opens and closes his mouth and makes ridiculous faces. “I just feel relaxed.” 

Ollie shakes his head. “I don’t like it.” 

Tommy hums, noncommittally and allows Ollie to rest his head on his shoulder. 

“You’re soft,” Ollie says, cuddling up to his side. “No wonder all the girls like you.” 

“You’re high,” Tommy says with a laugh. “Just try to relax. It’ll pass in a bit.” 

“I don’t like weed,” he says, shaking his head. 

“Yeah,” Tommy agrees, even though he doesn’t. He loves it. He has every intention of talking to some upperclassmen so he can figure out where he can buy some more. 

“I’m gonna buy Felicity an elephant,” Ollie announces out of nowhere. 

“What?” 

“For Hanukkah,” he says, as if that is an explanation. 

“You can’t just buy her an elephant,” Tommy says, shaking his head. Must he always be the voice of reason? 

“Sure I can,” Ollie says. “I’m rich and she loves elephants. She was obsessed with them when we were little. You remember.” 

“No.” 

He really doesn’t. Tommy barely paid Felicity much mind when they were little. The only reason he even paid her half a mind in middle school was because he takes his job as wingman seriously. 

“She’ll love it,” Ollie says, cuddling into his side. 

Tommy is pretty sure that she won’t, but he doesn’t waste his breath trying to tell him otherwise. Ollie can barely be reasoned with sober, he certainly isn’t going to try while high. 

“If she were here, do you think you’d have asked her out already or would we still be playing this song and dance?” Tommy asks. 

“I’m not good enough for her,” Ollie says. 

“You’re the only one that thinks so,” he says with a roll of his eyes. He doesn't understand how someone as amazing and popular as Ollie can have such low self-esteem. “That girl thinks you hung the moon.” 

Ollie starts laughing hysterically. When Tommy looks over at him like he’s nuts, Ollie just points to the astronaut. 

“The moon,” Ollie practically wheezes as he continues to laugh. 

“You are high as fuck,” he says. Tommy joins in on the laughter, despite himself. 

“Who’s there?” somebody calls out. 

Instantly, Tommy’s on high alert. 

“Shh,” he puts his hand over Ollie’s mouth in an effort to silence him. 

They’ve been discovered. Mentally, he catalogs their crimes and tries to figure out what’s going to get them the biggest lecture from their dad’s. He’s less worried about being arrested than he is about how his father will react. There’s no way any of this will make it onto their permanent record once their families lawyers get involved, but Tommy doesn’t feel like getting grounded with so many end of year parties coming up. 

Their first and arguable worst offense is that they’ve broken into the planetarium. That fact is unavoidable. They’ve been caught red-handed. They can’t deny it. 

Next offense is the pot. They are high and that much is rather obvious thanks to Ollie’s giggling. He digs into his pocket and pulls the joint out, burying it in the sand quickly. It won’t be as bad if they can’t find the evidence. Maybe they can write off Ollie’s giggles as a severe reaction to the booze. 

Which brings him to their last offense: His dad’s tequila. Tommy had broken into his liquor cabinet and they’d been drinking. He looks around for the bottle, thinking it’s possible he could maybe stash that as well, but he can’t find it. Then he remembers that he’d tossed it aside over by the shuttle. It’s too far out of reach to hide at this point. 

He’ll get the standard week for the drinking, but the B&E is questionable. This might not be Tommy’s first time sneaking into a place, but it’s his first time getting caught. There’s no telling how his dad is going to react. 

A flashlight is shown in their face as a security guard stares down at them. 

“What are you kids doing here?” he asks. 

Tommy has a few options. He could play this several ways and possibly even talk themselves out of this. The cops haven’t been brought in yet. This guy is low grade security. He can easily be bought off. Tommy has a few hundred in his wallet and he’s sure Ollie has more. 

“Just taking in the stars, officer,” Ollie says stupidly, causing Tommy to roll his eyes as he tries not to snort. 

Or he could just let Ollie’s high ass try to handle things. They’ll get in about ten times the trouble, but it’ll be an amusing story to tell their friends. 


	9. A Call to Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Diggle gets shot, Oliver and Felicity have no choice but to bring him onto the team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone out east survived the brutal storm. I also hope that if anyone's town is having the same terrible flu outbreak that mine is, you are all staying healthy! I'm getting over my 8 days of death finally, but I wouldn't wish this illness on even Malcolm Merlyn himself!
> 
> This chapter takes place November 2012. A complete timeline of this series can be found here  
> ([Home Verse Timeline](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13304013))

Oliver stands over Lawton’s body, staring at the arrow through his eye. It reminds him too much of Slade. It would be easy to go down that path. To let himself get caught up in the memory of all that he lost and all that he had a hand in helping destroy. But he shouldn’t. Not right now. 

He hears a groan that immediately puts him on alert. He grabs an arrow and turns around in the same millisecond that he realizes he’s not alone. His eyes land on his bodyguard and his heart stops. 

Digg’s been shot. 

“Felicity,” he calls out as he runs to Digg’s side. 

“Oliver? What happened?” she asks. “Were you hit? Are you okay?” 

They don’t have much time. The bullet went through his shoulder. It’s too close. The poison won’t take long to reach his heart. He’s going to die if Oliver can’t get him help in time. 

“It’s Diggle,” he says as he attempts to pick the man up, only he’s too heavy. He’s going to have to walk. “We’re on our way. Have everything ready.” 

“You’re bringing him here?” Felicity says. “What about a hospital?” 

“There isn’t enough time,” he says as he supports Digg’s weight and they move as quickly as they can down the stairs. A hospital could fix the blood loss, but they won’t have an antidote ready for the curare. 

There’s no time to think about what he’s doing. He’s debated bringing Digg onto the team eventually. It’s the reason he had Felicity do a background check on him a few days ago. He just hadn’t decided if it was a good idea or not. Lawton made that decision for him though. He can’t let the man die just to protect his secret. 

He manages to get them down to the ground floor and fishes the car keys out of Diggle’s pocket. There are a ton of cops out, but thankfully, most of their attention is located across the street where the shooting occured. Oliver manages to get them into the car without anyone seeing them and drives like a bat out of hell to get to the bunker. All the while, Digg is moaning repeatedly. 

“Okay, everything is set up, I think,” she says. “How far away are you?”

“We should be there in a few minutes,” he tells her, running a red light to get there faster. “Make sure the herbs are out. Mash them up and mix them with water.” 

“I did,” she says. 

Oliver says a silent prayer that they are able to get him treated in time. He has enough blood on his hands already. 

What was Digg even doing up there anyway? Oliver sent him out with his mother and Thea. He was supposed to stay with them. 

“He’s too nosey for his own good,” he says to Felicity. 

“His job is to keep you safe,” she says. “He was doing what he was supposed to.” 

“I can keep myself safe,” he grumbles as he turns the last block. They are almost there. 

“As is evidenced by the fact that you got shot three days ago,” she scoffs. “This is why you need backup.” 

“I have  _ you _ ,” he argues as he turns into the factory and parks the car. He runs around to the side and pulls Digg out of the car. 

Digg is barely conscious as he stumbles down the stairs and places him on the medical table. 

“He doesn’t look good,” Felicity says as she hands him a cup with the herbs in it. 

Oliver has to agree. It’s possible that the poison has already reached his heart and is slowly shutting his body down. He lifts Digg’s head up and pours the herbs down his throat. Diggle coughs a bit, but otherwise swallows the herbs. That’ll take care of the poison. Now to tend to the bullet wound. 

“What now?” Felicity asks, looking up at him with wide eyes. 

“Cut his shirt off,” he instructs. “We need to stop the bleeding.” 

Felicity nods and moves to grab the scissors while he checks to make sure that all of their medical equipment is ready. It’s a through-and-through, so he won’t have to remove the bullet. All he has to do is sew up the wound. 

Felicity finishes cutting the suit off of him so they can get a clear look at he wound. Oliver doesn’t think that it hit an artery, which is good. He probably won’t bleed out before they can get him sewn up. 

“You remember how to do sutures?” he asks her, handing her the suture kit. He’d shown her how to stitch a wound the other day when he’d been shot. If she’s going to be on the team, it’s a skill she’s going to need to develop. He won’t always be able to stitch himself up. 

“Me?” she asks, shaking her head and refusing to take the kit. “You should do it.” 

“I’ll be right here the whole time,” he says, pushing the suture kit into her hands. 

She closes her eyes and takes several calming breaths. Her hands are shaking. He reaches out and places his own hands over hers to help her calm down. 

“Hey,” he says quietly. She opens her eyes to look at him. “You’ve got this.” 

Felicity looks down at Digg then back up at him. “Yeah. Okay.” 

She squares her shoulders and instantly, her mood is changed. She’s no longer timid and scared. Instead, she’s sure of herself. She picks up the needle holder and then grabs the needle.

“Where do you place the first stitch?” he asks her. 

“In the center of the wound,” she says confidently, and he’s sure that she has this. She paid close attention the other day and always has been a quick study. 

“Have at it then,” he says. 

He watches her carefully as she applies the stitches, giving her additional instructions as needed. Eventually, the wound is closed on both ends and they are able to bandage him up. 

“He’ll be okay?” she asks, looking up at him nervously. 

“He should be fine,” Oliver assures her, placing a kiss to the top of her head. “Good job.” 

She shakes her head. “That is never a skill I wanted to learn,” she says. 

He never wanted her to have to learn it either, but it’s a reality of being on the team. If he’s being honest with himself, though he’d always planned on going at this alone, he needs her here and trained in first aid. There’s going to come a day where he gets injured badly and he’s going to need her to know how to save him. It’s a relief to know that she’s able to so quickly put her fear aside and focus on the task at hand. She’s going to make a good nurse once she has some more training. 

Felicity takes one more glance at Digg before moving back to sit in front of her computers. 

He comes to stand beside her. They’ve got probably an hour or so before Digg wakes up and they have to explain to him what happened and where he is. They may as well get some work done while they wait. 

“The police haven’t found Lawton,” she informs him. “They found his hideout where the shots came from, but his body wasn’t there. They did find a few of your arrows though.” 

“What?” he asks, trying to wrap his mind around what she’s just said. 

“Don’t worry, they can’t track you through the arrows,” she reassures him, but he waves her off. That’s not what he’s worried about. 

Lawton’s alive? He got away?

Oliver can’t imagine anyone surviving a shot to the eye. He saw his body. The arrow had to have pierced through to his brain. He’d fully intended to kill him. Oliver  _ should _ have killed him. He should have checked for a pulse to make sure he was dead, but he let Diggle distract him. He shouldn’t have been so reckless as to assume, he knows better. 

Lawton deserves to be six feet under. He’s a mercenary. He kills for money. There’s no honor in what he does, just pain. Men like that don’t get to live. Not in his city. Oliver won’t make that mistake again. Next time, he’ll aim straight for the heart. 

“How many civilians were injured?” he asks as he mentally begins calculating a plan to track Lawton down. 

“One dead, three hospitalized,” she says. “They’re lucky that it wasn’t more.” 

Oliver shakes his head. He should have stopped Lawton before tonight. Nobody had to get hurt in the first place if only he’d done his job the first time. 

“Hey,” Felicity says, reaching out to take his hand. “You did the best you could. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” 

“The best I could?” he says, pulling his hand out of hers. He doesn’t deserve her comfort right now. He shouldn’t get to feel better about himself when there is a dead body, people in the hospital, and a mercenary on the loose in the city, all because of his failure. 

“Felicity, I should have stopped him.” 

“You  _ did _ stop him,” she reminds him, but it’s not enough. 

“He needs to be put down,” he says through gritted teeth as anger begins to consume him. “Permanently.” 

“Oliver,” she gasps in surprise.

He turns his back on her and walks to the other side of the bunker. He doesn’t want her to see him when he gets like this. She’s still under the impression that he has the potential to be some kind of masked crusader. She has no idea what kind of monster he really is. The rage that he’s only able to marginally channel because he puts this hood on every night. 

She still believes that he’s only doing this out of obligation to his father. She has no idea… She doesn’t know that the only reason he’s able to be Oliver Queen during the day is because he only allows the monster inside of himself out at night. 

He punches one of the training dummies repeatedly as he berates himself for allowing Lawton to get away. He’s got to get better at this. He’s not training enough. He’s spending too much time indulging himself in the picture perfect life he’s creating for himself. He can’t keep getting lost in Felicity every chance he gets. He has to spend more time in the bunker preparing for what’s out there. 

First thing in the morning, he’ll start a new regime — a harder regime. 

He punches the dummy as hard as he can over and over until finally it breaks in half and he’s left standing over the pieces trying to catch his breath. He opens and closes his fists as his knuckles crack. He can’t see them through the gloves he still has on, but he’s sure that they are bleeding. He relishes in the ache. Lets the sharp pain radiating up his arm center him. 

He’s alive. This is real. This is who he has become. 

He takes several more breaths until his heart slows down and his breathing evens out. Only then, does he trust himself to start to let go. 

Oliver takes his gloves off first and shoves them in his pocket. Next he unzips his jacket and shrugs it off as the heavy weight on his shoulders grows significantly lighter. He continues to disrobe until every bit of the monster is gone. Only then does he trust himself to look back over at Felicity. 

She’s watching him cautiously and he has to wonder if she’s been doing that the entire time. If she has, he wonders what it was that she saw when he was punching that dummy. Did she see the hero she wants him to be, or does she now understand the truth? He won’t blame her if she runs. As much as he loves and needs her, he’s terrified of any of his darkness rubbing off on her. She is the embodiment of light and perfection. 

She stands up and takes several careful steps towards him and he waits with bated breath to see if she’ll change her mind. She stops just out of reach and stares at him, not saying a word. He doesn’t dare speak up though, not before she does. 

When she does finally say something, it’s not what he expects.

“We should probably put in a shower,” she says. 

He looks at her curiously, unsure what she’s trying to tell him. What do they need a shower for? Is she leaving him? Does she know what a monster he is? Can she see now that he’s nothing but a murderous, blood-hungry madman without a soul? 

She steps to the side and grabs something before moving to stand in front of him. She then picks up his hand and begins washing the blood away with a wet wipe. 

“We should put in a shower,” she says. “That way you can clean yourself up after missions. You don’t want people to start to talk.” 

“Felicity—” he starts to ask her what’s going on — why isn’t she reacting — but she cuts him off. 

“It’s fine,” she says. 

And when her eyes meet his, he can see that she means it. She’d seen his breakdown and she’s still standing here. He doesn’t understand. 

“Felicity, I never meant—” 

“Oliver, stop,” she cuts him off, putting a finger to his lips when he tries to explain. “I knew what you were when I agreed to join the team. I can’t say that I’m not going to try and put you on a better path, but I knew what you were.” 

She takes another wet wipe out and begins to wash away the dirt, grime, and grease paint that’s all over his face. 

“Then why?” he asks, trying to figure out why she’s still standing here and hasn’t gone running for the hills. 

She finishes wiping off his face before she places a kiss to his newly cleaned cheek. 

“Because I know the man underneath that hood, and he’s a good one,” she says. “One of the best. And if it takes the rest of my life, I’m going to make you believe that.” 

“I don’t deserve you,” he says in disbelief. He’d always known she was strong, but he hadn’t realized quite how much. His morality is not a weight she should have to bear. 

“Everyone deserves to be loved,” she says, standing on her tiptoes so that she can give him a tender kiss. Her lips against his help bring him back to Oliver Queen and temporarily quiet the rage inside of him. 

“Everyone,” she whispers when they break apart. 

She hands him the package of wet wipes. 

“Finish cleaning up and get dressed,” she orders him. “Digg will be awake soon and he doesn’t want to see you in just your underwear. We’re trying to make a good first impression.” 

Oliver nods his agreement and does his best to wipe the sweat from his body as she goes back over to work on her computers. She’s right, they need to get a shower put in here. First thing tomorrow he’ll start researching how to install one. It’s not like they can call a plumber down to the bunker. Even if they got rid of all of the evidence of him being The Hood, there are very few explanations for why Oliver Queen would need a shower put into the basement of the old steel factory. 

“I’m going through and scrubbing all the CCTV footage of you,” she calls out to him as he’s putting on his pants. 

“Dont,” he says, thinking quickly. 

For the past few weeks, he’s been purposefully getting himself caught on camera knowing that he’s going to have to get arrested soon if he’s going to throw any suspicion off of his trail. Up until now, he’s let Felicity scrub the camera footage of him because it hasn’t been the right time yet. But now, with Digg getting shot and brought onto the team, it’s the perfect time to put his plan in motion. 

Putting Digg out in the field as The Hood will be way more effective than putting Felicity out there. For one thing, Digg will be able to actually take down a low-grade criminal. Felicity would have just been out there trying to avoid any action. The risk with her had been too high to follow through with the plan. But Digg? With Digg the risk is acceptable. 

“What?” she looks up at him like he’s crazy. “But then the SCPD will catch you. They’re going to be combing through footage for evidence.” 

“Let them,” he says, throwing his shirt on. 

“What?” she says, looking adorably confused. 

“Let them,” he repeats, coming to stand over her. 

“But then they’ll know you’re The Hood,” she argues. 

He doesn’t give her an explanation. She’s not going to like what he has to say, he knows that much. However, it has to be done. If he’s going to be in this for the long haul — and that list of names isn’t getting any shorter — then he needs to find a way to get past the suspicious coincidence that Oliver Queen and The Hood showed up in Starling the same week. He’d thought that spinning the story of The Hood saving Oliver and Tommy from the kidnapping would be enough, but Lance hadn’t looked overly convinced of his story. 

Understanding seems to dawn on Felicity as she gets that determined, pissed off look in her eyes. She stands up and pushes against his chest until he steps back out of her way. 

“First you pretend to be drunk at the opening of your dad’s science center and you justify it to me because you want to keep your identity a secret. And  _ now _ you want them to find out your The Hood?” she asks. The rage is building in her eyes and he knows it’s going to take a lot of talking to walk her down off this ledge. 

“I want them to  _ think _ they’ve found out I’m The Hood,” he explains with a smirk. 

He’s actually rather proud of himself for this plan. Sooner or later, somebody is bound to put the pieces together just like Felicity did and no amount of pretending to be a drunken playboy is going to persuade them otherwise. The best way to silence any suspicion is to get arrested and then acquitted. After that, any time his name is uttered in the same sentence as The Hood, people will know he’s already been accused of the charge and proven innocent. 

It’s genius. 

Felicity says several choice words under her breath, letting him know that she thinks he’s a complete idiot as she pulls up the footage of him grabbing his gear out of the garbage can. She then points to it angrily. 

“How are you supposed to explain  _ this _ away?” she asks. “You’re going to get consecutive life sentences for murder. The SCPD is out for blood and they’ll make sure the DA doesn’t cut you any slack.” 

Oliver reaches out and puts a hand on her shoulder to try and calm her down, but she just shrugs off his touch. 

“I have a plan,” he tells her calmly. “Trust me.” 

Felicity snorts. “ _ Or _ you could tell me your idiotic plan to get put away for life and then I can decide for myself if I should trust you or not. But I’m pretty sure any plan that ends with you at Iron Heights isn’t a plan I’m going to get behind.” 

“I’m not going to end up at Iron Heights,” he promises, but she scoffs and rolls her eyes. 

“You may be rich and charming, but you can’t buy your way out of murder charges,” she says. 

Oliver sighs. It’s so like her not to accept anything easily. She always needs an explanation for every little thing, ever since they were kids. Normally, he finds it endearing. Moments like this, it’s just frustrating. 

“I’m going to get arrested, and then I’m going to prove my innocence,” he explains slowly. 

She crosses her arms and stares him down. “How?” 

“I can pass a lie detector test,” he says. 

“A lie detector test isn’t admissible in court,” she informs him. He’s disappointed. She didn’t even look the slightest bit impressed at his revelation that he can pass a lie detector. 

“Maybe not, but it’ll be enough to convince the SCPD — or more specifically, Lance,” he says. “The DA won’t take my case to court once The Hood is spotted out and about while I’m in custody.” 

Her eyes narrow as she studies him carefully. The fact that she’s not immediately tearing down his plan is promising. She must see at least some of the logic behind it. 

“How is The Hood supposed to be spotted out and about?” she asks, he can tell that she’s tentatively accepting his plan. 

Oliver nods at Digg, who’s still passed out on the med table. 

Felicity laughs. “You’re placing a lot of faith in the fact that he’ll agree to join the team. What happens when he says, ‘screw you’ and turns you over to the police?” 

“That won’t happen,” he says. 

“How do you know that?” she asks. 

“Because you’re going to convince him to stay,” he says, with a pointed look. 

“Me?” she asks, confused. “It’s your mission.” 

“And I’m the crazy guy who spent five years away from civilization. He’s going to think I’ve just snapped and lost my mind. You’re a genius though. You are calm, rational, and compassionate. If you were willing to join the mission, then he’ll see that it has value. You can convince him to help us,” he explains. 

“That’s a lot of pressure to put on my shoulders,” she says, biting her lip. She shifts around nervously as she glances over at Digg. 

He reaches out and puts his hands on her arms to calm her down. She stills and looks up at him. 

“You can do this,” Oliver says. “You’re the heart of this team. I’m just the brute force.” 

She rolls her eyes, clearly trying to seem annoyed, but the blush forming on her cheeks assures him that he’s found the right words to convince her. 

“Do you have a contingency plan if I can’t convince him?” she asks.

He shakes his head. He does, but it involves living life on the run as an fugitive and he doesn’t think she wants to hear about that plan just yet. 

Digg groans as they hear him start to stir. 

“You’ve got this,” he says, giving her a quick kiss before he turns her towards the med table and gives her a gentle push. 

She glances back at him one last time before nodding her head and standing up straight. If anybody can convince Digg, it’s Felicity. Of that he’s 100% certain.

****

Felicity approaches the booth where John is sitting cautiously. It’s been almost a day since he blew them off and stormed out of the bunker. She’d wanted to immediately follow him, but Oliver had told her to give him some time. Oliver had been so certain that John wouldn’t go to the police immediately. She hadn’t been. When she’d first found out Oliver’s secret, she’d nearly gone to the cops multiple times. The only thing that had stopped her was her love and faith in Oliver Queen. She didn’t think that John had that kind of faith in Oliver. Not yet. 

Still, she trusted Oliver’s instincts and let John go. 

Now that he’s had some time to get over the initial shock of it all, she’s ready to try again. 

“Anyone sitting here?” she asks. 

He looks up and when his eyes fall to hers, they darken. 

“Oliver always send his women to do his cleanup?” Digg asks bitterly and Felicity takes a step back at his tone. 

“I’m not one of Oliver Queen’s  _ women _ ,” she says defensively. 

“You’re right,” Digg says, gesturing to the seat in front of him. She unbuttons her coat and takes it off before sitting down. “You’re smarter than the girls he used to run around with, which is why I can’t figure out why you’re involved with him. Especially knowing what he is.” 

“You’re right,” she says. “I probably should have gone to the police by now. When I first found out, I wanted to.” 

“Why didn’t you?” he asks, pushing his food aside. He folds his arms to place on the table and leans over so they are closer together and can speak more freely. 

“Probably for the same reason you haven’t called the police yet,” she says. 

He raises an eyebrow at her in disbelief and she knows what he’s thinking. 

“It’s not just because I’m sleeping with him,” she says, pointedly. “There’s a nagging, I’m assuming, at the back of your mind when it comes to Oliver. I felt it, too. One that says that he’s doing the right thing by the people of this city. And it’s making you question everything you ever knew about yourself because it’s telling you to join him.” 

He looks like he’s about to agree for a moment or two before he scoffs. 

“Oliver was born with a platinum spoon in his mouth,” John says. “What, he spends five years on an island with no room service and suddenly he’s found religion?” 

Felicity shakes her head. 

“I’ve known Oliver since we were six,” she says. “This has always been who he is. Underneath all of the privilege and entitlement, this is him. All the island did was wash away the fake veneer.” 

“I’m supposed to believe he’s always been a good person?” John says with a laugh. “I’ve seen the videos of him punching out paparazzi and peeing on cops.” 

“I’m not going to tell you he’s always made good decisions,” she says. “He was a kid who grew up with a lot of money and power and very little supervision. He hated the world he was born into and the expectations it placed on him. Rather than stand up to his parents, he thought it was easier just to burn his world to the ground and piss away all of his potential… But Oliver has spent his entire life looking out for me.  _ Me _ . A poor girl from the Glades that few people at school looked at with anything but pity. He’s always hated the disparity between the rich and the poor. Really, it’s not that surprising that this is what he grew up to become.” 

“A murderer?” he whispers. 

She shakes her head. 

“Robin Hood,” she says, causing John to roll his eyes. “No, listen… Oliver has a mission. It’s one I think you would believe in if you gave it a chance. I know that his methods aren’t exactly to your liking or mine. But he’s spent the last 5 years in hell and doesn’t know any differently. It’s our job to show him that there’s another way.” 

“ _ Our _ job,” John says. “You’re assuming I’m going to join you.” 

“Please,” she says. “You decided to join him the moment you didn’t leave and go straight to the police with what you knew. You’re not struggling with who Oliver is, you’re struggling with who  _ you _ are if you join him.” 

John looks at her carefully and she stares right back at him in challenge. He knows that she’s right. That’s why he’s annoyed. Really, at the heart of them, Oliver and John aren’t that different. She can see them becoming good friends, even brothers, in time. They just have to get past their initial differences of opinion when it comes to how Oliver approaches the problem in the Glades. 

“You know what he’s doing is illegal,” John asks. “How do you justify helping him?” 

“Because I grew up in the Glades,” she says. “I know better than most just how little the courts care about stopping the city’s rich from exploiting us. I want to help this city. But that’s not why you’ll join us.” 

“Oh no?” John says. “Enlighten me.” 

“The police never caught your brother’s shooter,” she says and John instantly grows upset.

“Leave Andy out of this,” he says. 

“The bullets were laced with curare, weren’t they?” she asks, even though she knows the answer is yes. She’s done her research. 

John doesn’t respond, but he does lose the anger as he watches her curiously. 

“That’s Floyd Lawton’s work,” she says. “The sniper from last night.” 

“Are you telling me that Oliver stopped Andy’s killer?” he asks. 

“He tried,” Felicity explains. “Lawton somehow survived Oliver’s shot. He got away.” 

Digg shakes his head and she can see his hands shaking in rage. She reaches out to place her hands over his. 

“Let us help you find him,” she says. “And in return, you can help us take down the criminals of this city that the police are too scared to arrest and the courts are too scared to prosecute. You can help us make this city safe again for families like mine...” 

Felicity purposefully glances over at Carly until John follows her eyes. “And for families like  _ yours _ .” 

He looks back at her. “That’s a dirty trick.” 

She shrugs. “Are you in?” 

Digg sits back in his seat and reviews his options. It takes another minute or two, but he eventually agrees. 

“Just to be clear, I’m not signing on to be a sidekick,” he says. 

“Sure,” she agrees, clapping her hands excitedly. “This calls for celebratory milkshakes.” 

“Celebratory milkshakes?” he asks with a laugh. 

Instantly, her smile drops. “Don’t tell me I came all the way out to Big Belly Burger and don’t get to have a burger  _ or _ a milkshake?” 

John shakes his head before raising his hand to get Carly’s attention. 

When she comes over, he tells Carly to order her a milkshake and a burger. 

“I have to say, I’m pretty excited to have you on the team,” she says with a smile once Carly walks away. 

“Yeah?” Digg asks, pushing his plate back in front of him.

“Yeah,” she says. “Now when we vote on things, I can actually win.” 

“You’re assuming I’ll vote with you,” he says with a laugh. 

“Trust me, you’ll always vote with me,” she says. “You’ll understand once you hear some of Oliver’s more insane ideas.” 

“So you just brought me on so that we can gang up on him?” John says. 

“Is that a problem?” she asks with a raise of her eyebrow. 

“Nope,” he says with a smile. “Just making sure we’re on the same page.” 

Carly comes back soon with her burger and shake and the two of them spend the next hour getting to know each other beyond their titles as Oliver Queen’s girlfriend and Oliver Queen’s bodyguard. Their dinner confirms what she’d suspected from the moment Moira hired him: John Diggle is exactly what Oliver needs in his life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the love you guys have been giving me! It means the world!


	10. Sleepovers with the Roommates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy and Felicity spend a much needed wine night together discussing their relationship issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somebody prompted more Flommy and so here you are! This story takes place in November of Season 1. For a full timeline, visit this link:   
> [Home Verse Timeline ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13304013)

Tommy is pounding on the keyboard in frustration as he tries to figure out why in the hell his credit card had gotten declined. It literally makes no sense. The entire point of owning a black card is that there is no limit. It’s impossible to max out the card. And even if the company thought the card had been stolen, the waiter who talked to the company knew who he was. He should have told him that Tommy was indeed the owner of the card and everything was fine. Tommy’s beyond frustrated. 

He had been able to cover the cost of dinner with the cash he always keeps on hand. So that wasn't it. It was just embarrassing. Tommy has been trying hard to impress Laurel. Getting his credit card confiscated was hardly how he planned on doing that. 

The front door opens and Tommy looks up in relief to see Felicity walking through the door. She’ll be able to work her computer magic and fix whatever is wrong. 

“Good! You’re home!” he says. “Help me with this thing!” 

Tommy gestures towards his stupid laptop. With how expensive the thing had been, you’d think the damn keyboard would work. He’s positive he’s been typing in his password correctly, so the only thing he can fathom is that the computer is somehow messing up. 

“Oh hi, Felicity. It’s nice to see you home safe and sound. I missed you. How was your day? Oh, thank you for asking Tommy. It was fine,” she says as she sets her purse down on the front table and crosses her arms to glare at him. 

Tommy realizes his mistake. He stands up from where he’s been hunched over his laptop and sighs. 

“Hello,” he says, forcing himself to swallow his anger and give her the proper greeting she deserves. “Welcome home. How are you?” 

“Long day,” she grumbles. “I hope you’re planning on staying in for the night with me, because I need my drinking buddy.” Felicity takes her heels off and leaves them by the front door, despite how many times he’s asked her not to. 

“Well Laurel and I had our first date and I’m already home, so you can probably do that math yourself,” he says. 

Felicity makes a face at him and he shrugs her off. He doesn’t want to talk about it. The date had gone fine enough. He’d even gotten a kiss on the cheek at the end and a promise of another date. It was good news. It really was. It’s just… He hasn’t had sex in a long time and he’s feeling the effects. 

“So wine for two then,” she says with a nod. She moves into the kitchen to grab a wine bottle and two glasses. She then glances over his shoulder at his screen while she opens the bottle. 

“What are you doing?” she asks. 

“I’m trying to get logged into my credit card account, but it’s locked me out,” he says as he gestures wildly at the stupid computer. 

For a moment, he’d forgotten about his frustration, but her question reminds him. He’s spent the last hour trying to figure out how to log himself in. He may not have gone to MIT, but he knows how to navigate the damn internet. 

“Trade,” Felicity says, handing him the open bottle of wine as she reaches out for his laptop. He passes it to her and pours them both generous glasses as she sits down and starts typing away. 

“You weren’t locked out for an incorrect password,” she says, staring at the screen in confusion. “Your account’s been closed.” 

“What the hell?!” he yells. Felicity quickly takes her wine out of his hands before he can spill it. 

“What’s going on?” she asks. 

Tommy plops down into a chair and downs half of his glass before he’s ready to speak. 

“So Laurel took me to this indian place that she loves — Which, don’t tell her I told you this, but it’s awful. Don’t go. You’ll hate it — But anyways, she took me to this indian place and when it came time to pay the guy told me that my card had been declined.” 

“Oh, well that happens sometimes,” Felicity says with a shrug. “You know those readers can be glitchy.” 

Tommy waves his hands around. “Yes! Thank you! That’s what I said.” 

“So did he try again?” she asks. 

“No. Apparently he had already tried it a few times and then the guy said that the credit card company called and asked him to confiscate the card,” Tommy says. 

“Your black card,” Felicity says in disbelief. He gets it. He had the same sense of confusion. 

“Yes,” he says. “I don’t know if they thought it was being stolen because it had been swiped too many times or what. Part of me thought maybe the waiter was trying to steal it. But then I came home to cancel the card and order a new one, and I’m locked out.”

Felicity frowns at him before she looks back down at the computer and starts typing away again. 

“Okay, I’m in the customer service logs and it looks like somebody called to close your account this afternoon,” she says, staring closely at the screen. 

“Who?” Tommy asks, baffled. If somebody was going to steal his identity, wouldn’t they be using his card, not closing it? 

“Sandy Willborne?” Felicity looks up at him. “I know that name…” 

“It’s our accountant,” he says, confused. “What the fuck?” 

His family pays Sandy a lot of money to make sure the finances are in order. He’s supposed to make sure stuff like this doesn’t ever happen. Tommy picks up his phone and dials Sandy’s number. It rings several times before going to voicemail. 

“Hey Sandy,” he says. “It’s Tommy. I need you to call me as soon as you get this. I’m having a problem with the black card and it looks like you closed the account? I’m assuming there was an issue with the card and you had to order me a new one. It would have been nice of you to let me know that. Call me.” 

Tommy hangs up the phone and sets it down on the table. 

“I’m guessing Laurel wasn’t impressed when she had to pay for the meal,” Felicity says with a frown. 

“I had cash to cover our tab. That wasn’t the issue,” Tommy says. “It was just embarrassing.” 

Felicity scoffs. “Tommy, you’re a billionaire. I highly doubt Laurel is looking at you all judgmentally because of an issue with a credit card. It’s clearly an error.” 

“I guess,” he says. “I just wanted so badly to make a good impression on her. It took so much convincing just to get her to give us a try…” 

Felicity reaches out and places a hand over his. “If she can’t see how amazing you are, that’s her loss.” 

Tommy smiles at that. He doesn’t know how he would have survived these last few years, especially the addiction, without her by his side. She’s always so supportive of him and he loves that about her. He raises his glass for a toast and Felicity quickly raises hers with him. 

“What are we cheers-ing to?” she asks. 

“To good friends,” he says. The two of them cheers and take a drink before setting their glasses back down. 

“So why don’t you tell me what’s going on in the world of Smoak,” Tommy says. “I notice your shadow isn’t here tonight.” 

From the moment they first hooked up, Oliver and Felicity have pretty much been inseparable. Apart from the times Oliver and he have gone out while Felicity is at work, and the few times he’ll catch her stopping by to change before going over to Oliver’s, he hasn’t seen either of them without the other. He loves them both and he’s completely supportive of their relationship, so he’s not complaining. But it is nice to have a night to themselves again, like old times. 

“Oliver went home,” she says shortly and he’s sensing there’s a lot more to that story than Oliver just wanting a night in his own bed. 

“Trouble in paradise?” he asks as Felicity rolls her eyes. He tries not to be terribly concerned. It’s normal for couples to fight now and again. Especially ones that spend as much time together as Oliver and Felicity do. 

“No,” she says. 

Tommy raises his eyebrows at her, waiting for the truth. She has to know by now that he doesn’t accept one word responses. 

“Fine,” she grumbles. “I’m mad at Oliver. Only, I know it’s ridiculous. He didn’t do anything. I know he loves me. It’s just…” 

She trails off and he rolls his eyes. If she thinks there was any kind of explanation in that, she’s crazy. 

“Smoak, seriously,” he says. “I’m going to be 92 when I finally get this story out of you. Put that genius IQ of yours to work and use your words.” 

Felicity closes the screen on his laptop and pushes it aside before downing the rest of her wine and setting it aside as well. She places her elbows on the table. He sits up straighter as he prepares for what is clearly about to be quite the story. 

“Oliver was supposed to be meeting with a man who is looking to invest in the club,” she explains. “Except, when he got there, the man had to apparently leave to run an errand. At which point, I guess Oliver tried to reschedule their meeting, but the man was insistent that Oliver stay and have dinner with his daughter instead.” 

“I’m guessing his daughter wasn’t 5 and wearing a cupcake dress with long, blonde pigtails,” Tommy says, shaking his head. God damn. Tommy knows that Oliver loves Felicity, but fuck does he find himself in this position far too often. 

“Oh no,” Felicity says. “She’s basically a tall, leggy supermodel.” 

Tommy reaches behind him to grab the bottle of wine off of the counter to refill her glass. She’s going to need it. 

“She’s also brunette,” she says and Tommy cannot hide his wince. 

“Yes, see!” she exclaims. “She’s exactly Oliver’s type.” 

“Maybe before,” Tommy says, reaching out to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. “But I’ve seen the way he is with you. He’s never been like that with any of the other girls he’s dated. He’s been in love with you for as long as I can remember. You have nothing to worry about.” 

“I know I have nothing to worry about,” Felicity says. “I know it’s irrational to get jealous and totally unfair of me to tell him he couldn’t come home with me tonight. And yet, here I am. Pissed off.” 

Tommy nods his head. He’s got several ideas of his own on why Felicity is jealous and they all revolve around her intense insecurity after years of feeling pushed to the side and second best, but Tommy keeps that to himself. It’s not what she needs to hear right now. What she needs right now is chocolate. 

He pulls out his wallet and checks to see how much cash he has left. He’s got five hundred. He’s safe. He picks up his phone and scrolls through his contacts until the number for Giovanni’s bakery comes up. They are closed for the day, but Gio stays late decorating all the special order cakes for the next day. He’ll answer the phone. 

“What are you doing?” Felicity asks. 

“Well if we’re both going to be irrationally miserable and angsting like teenagers, we may as well do it up properly with some dessert,” he explains. 

“Gio’s?” she asks, her eyes lighting up. 

Tommy places his hand over his heart as he feigns pain. 

“It hurts that you think I’d order from anywhere else,” he says as he waits for Gio to pick up on the other end. 

She practically bounces in her seat and Tommy smiles. He enjoys making Felicity happy. For such a long time it was nearly impossible to do. Now that Oliver’s back, she’s smiling a lot more than she used to, but he will never take her happiness for granted. 

“I’m going to go get my pajamas on!” she says excitedly as she rushes off to her bedroom. 

He has to admit, he’s a bit excited as well. It’s been awhile since they had one of their sleepovers where they stay up until the wee hours of the morning until they eventually pass out on the sofa in the middle of whatever cheesy movie they’ve decided to watch. 

“You’re not giving me a facial again!” he calls after her as Gio picks up. “Hey man, it’s Tommy. Any chance you can swing by with the usual order?” 

Tommy chats with Gio for a few minutes about how business is going and last night’s disastrous game. After they both agree that Gotham got lucky and they’ll most certainly beat them in the playoffs, Gio promises to have their food delivered as soon as it’s finished baking. 

Felicity comes out of her bedroom with her makeup off and hair in a messy bun, wearing her favorite martini glass pants. She’s holding a box and looking at him innocently as he shakes his head. 

“No,” he argues with her before she can even say it. 

“Come on!” she says. “You told me that your face had never been smoother, last time. Don’t you want to be all pretty for your next date with Laurel?” 

“Pro tip, if you’re trying to convince me to do anything girly, don’t say I’ll look pretty,” he says with a laugh as he grabs their wine and walks into the living room. 

“Fine,” she says, setting the box down on the coffee table. “You’ll be super mega foxy awesome hot.” 

“A Very Potter Musical? Really?” Tommy says, picking up the remote and turning the TV on. 

“You watched it for me!” she asks, clapping. “You’re such a closeted nerd. You know that Geek is chic now, right?” 

“No, you _made_ me watch it last time you were drunk,” he says with a laugh. “Figures you don’t remember. You were two bottles deep.” 

“Well, you still recognized the reference, so I’m taking it as a win,” she says, sitting down on the couch next to him. “So is that a yes to facials?” 

Tommy sighs. “You’re sure that Oliver isn’t going to show up to apologize with a boombox over his head like the lovesick bastard he is?” 

Felicity shakes her head. “Nope. He is watching over his mom tonight so Thea can hang out with her friends.” 

He rolls his eyes and settles back into the sofa and she takes that as permission to start. He will never admit it to a living soul, but Felicity is right. His face  _ had _ been super soft after the last time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments mean the world to me! Thanks for your continued support!


	11. Don't Give Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity struggles to forgive Oliver for having dinner with Helena.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a bit behind on replying to comments, but I will. Know that I appreciate each and every one! Thanks for the continued support guys! I'm currently working through the prompts I've been given for this verse- but as always, keep them coming!
> 
> This story takes place in November of Season 1. For a full timeline, visit this link:   
> Home Verse Timeline

Felicity closes out the file she’s compiled on The Huntress, aka Helena Bertinelli, aka the woman Oliver had dinner with last night. She’s been telling herself that the file is for the team. That, rationally, they are going to need to know everything they can about her if they are going to prevent an all out mob war from happening. If she’s being honest with herself, however, she knows that isn’t the only reason why she’d decided to look into the woman. 

She’s jealous. 

At first she assumed that it was because Helena was Oliver’s type. Felicity has been Oliver’s best friend since they were kids, so she’s been around to see the kind of women Oliver usually falls into bed with. It was impossible not to notice everything about those women, because she was always comparing herself to them. Always seeing the things they had that she didn’t. So she knows that Helena is exactly the type of woman Oliver goes for. 

But Felicity hadn’t been lying to Tommy last night when she told him she believed Oliver wouldn’t sleep with anyone else. So she stayed up most of the night tossing and turning, trying to figure out what it is about Helena that has Felicity feeling so threatened. Thus, the beginning of Felicity’s investigation into Helena. 

Felicity’s uncovered a lot in her research. Helena was once engaged to a man named Michael Staton, until he was murdered two months before their wedding. While the murder has gone unsolved due to lack of sufficient evidence, the general consensus among the SCPD is that the Bertinelli’s had Michael killed when they found out he was going to tip off the FBI. When Michael died, Helena went off the grid. Felicity couldn’t find her anywhere through normal means, but some deeper digging uncovered the truth. She fled to Sicily. Rumors suggest she began working with a group of assassins in Italy called La Morte Sussurrata. A string of murders are all attached to a woman who matches Helena’s description to a T. 

Now, it appears, Helena is back in Starling City with a list of her own. She’s taking on the Bertinelli crime family all by herself as this elusive “Huntress.”  

Her story isn’t terribly different from Oliver’s. Both of them have been through something terrible. Both have been made into something else entirely by their experiences. And both of them have taken justice into their own hands. 

And that is where the jealousy comes into play. 

There is a part of Oliver that Felicity will never be able to relate to. A part of himself that he refuses to open up to her about. But Helena is different. Helena can understand him. Oliver had said it himself last night. The two of them talked. He’d meant for it to ease her fears, but it only made them worse. Oliver Queen, notorious philanderer, nearly impossible to penetrate stone wall… He’d spent hours alone with a beautiful woman and all they’d done was talk. He hadn’t tried to seduce her for information. He hadn’t sat in stoney silence. They’d actually had a conversation. 

That terrifies Felicity. 

What if she isn’t what Oliver needs? What if what he needs is somebody that can understand the hell he’s been through and will walk beside him through the darkness? She’s been doing her best to pull him back into the land of the living, but what if that isn’t what he wants? What if he’s more comfortable as The Hood than he’ll ever be as Oliver Queen? 

She takes a calming breath to keep herself from getting too worked up. She’s at work and she has a job to do. She shouldn't be focusing on this right now. She should be focused on the company. There are too many things she wants to do in the R&D department now that she’s in charge. Malcolm has entrusted her with the promotion and he expects her to deliver results. 

She opens up her email and focuses on work. There are several messages from HR about various possibilities for a new assistant, now that she’s promoted her old assistant. There’s a request from marketing for some product information needed for the new ads. She deals with those easily. The message from one of her lead designers about a problem with a prototype is going to take some more thought, so she flags it for later. 

Felicity loses herself in her work for several hours, working straight through lunch. It’s not until the sun has set and she has to turn on the lamp in her office for light that she realizes how late it’s gotten. It’s probably time to head home, she thinks, glancing at the clock. It’s after six. She remembers promising Tommy that they’d have dinner together. She’s surprised that she hasn’t already gotten a phone call harassing her to come home. 

“Should’ve known I’d find you here,” Oliver says, knocking on the door gently. 

She looks up at him. He’s looking particularly handsome in his blue sweater. She wants to tell him so, but she won’t. Not when she’s feeling so unsure about their relationship. 

Oliver told her that the reason he never asked her out when they were younger was because he wasn’t sure they would be able to make it work. He didn’t think he would be able to give her what she needed, so he stayed away to preserve their friendship. Clearly he’d been partially right. Only, it’s her that can’t give him what he needs. 

That had been her greatest fear about their relationship. Except, she always assumed she wouldn't be enough for him sexually. She didn’t realize that she had to worry about their emotional connection. 

She clears her throat, realizing that she hasn’t responded to him and that he’s looking at her expectantly. “Well that’s what happens when you have a job. Sometimes you have to actually work.” 

Oliver winces. He steps into her office and closes the door behind him. “So I guess that means you’re still mad at me.” 

Of course she’s still mad at him. Only, she can recognize how completely unfair that is. Can she really be mad at him when it’s her own fault for not giving him what he needs? 

“I’m not mad at you,” she says, returning her attention back to her screen so she can save her projects and begin closing up for the night. 

No. Mad isn’t the right word for what she’s feeling. Hurt is more appropriate. She’s hurting and she can see the writing on the walls. She doesn’t need to stick around to see this all play out. She knows how it ends. 

“Is that why we spent the night in separate beds?” he gives her a knowing look. 

Felicity stands up. “I have plans with Tommy. Can we finish this later?” 

“Felicity,” he says, and she can hear the annoyance in his voice even if he’s trying to mask it. “I apologized about Helena and I meant it, but I didn’t sleep with her. I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

She crosses her arms and meets his eyes, trying to sound tougher than she feels. “And if I wasn't in the picture? What then? What if we weren’t going out? Are you going to tell me that you wouldn’t have taken her home last night? That you two wouldn’t have had sex?” 

Oliver sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. “Felicity…” 

“It’s fine,” she cuts him off. She doesn’t want an answer to that question. None of this is about sex. It really isn’t. She’s not upset over any sexual attraction there may or may not be between the two of them. She’s upset over the emotional connection they share. 

She walks around the desk and Oliver reaches out to grab her waist and stop her from leaving.

“It’s clearly not,” he says. He walks the two of them backwards until she hits her desk. 

“I didn’t think you slept with her,” she admits, all fight leaving her body. All she’s left with is the increasing feeling of dread that the best thing to ever happen to her is about to be taken away. 

“If you didn’t think I slept with her, then why are you upset?” he asks, holding his arms out, looking completely confused. 

Felicity pushes some papers aside so that she can sit on top of her desk. 

“Her fiance died,” she says. 

Oliver nods. “I know. She told me.” 

Felicity swallows down a pained snort. Of course she told him. 

“The two of you talked,” she says. 

“That’s it, I promise,” he says, completely missing the point. It wasn’t a question. It was an explanation for her pain. “She’s been through hell and I can relate.” 

Oliver steps in closer to her and she puts her hands behind her, leaning further away. With him so close, it’s difficult to always think straight. She still remembers the days when she couldn’t be close to him because she thought he was dead. Thinking of those times makes it difficult to stay angry with him. She doesn't want to kiss him though. Not if it is going to be the last. 

“You talked to her about the island,” she says, doing her best to keep the accusation out of her voice. 

“A little, yeah,” he says. The fact that he can’t tell why she’d be hurt by that is just so typically Oliver that she could scream. 

“You talked to a complete stranger, the woman who shot at your mother and could have killed her, and you still can’t even talk to me about what happened to you on the island,” she says. “You used to be able to tell me anything.” 

Realization crosses Oliver's face as his mouth opens to form a response, but none comes. He shakes his head. 

“It’s okay,” she says with watery eyes. “You don’t have to explain. I know we both wanted this to work, but maybe it was never meant to. You aren’t the same person you were before you left and neither am I.”

“No,” he says, grabbing onto her arms so that she can’t leave. “No. Felicity, please. Don’t do this. Don’t run away from this.” 

“I want you to be with somebody you trust,” she says. 

“I trust you,” he says admently. 

“I want you to be with somebody you can talk to,” she says, squeezing her eyes shut so that she won’t have to look into his eyes. “And if that’s her, then okay. I understand. I love you and I want what’s best for you. Now please let me go.” 

“You are what’s best for me,” he says, his hands moving to cradle her face as his forehead rests against hers. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I can’t talk about what happened… I’m sorry that I talked about it at all with Helena. I just… It’s not like you think. It’s not because I need her. It’s because I need you.” 

Felicity opens her eyes and is surprised to see Oliver nearly crying. “I need you,” he says softly. “Please don’t give up on this. Don’t give up on me.” 

Every instinct she has is telling her to run. To get out of here before he can hurt her anymore than he already has. She doesn’t do well with losing people she cares about and losing Oliver again will most certainly break her. 

“I’ll be better,” he promises. “I just… I don’t talk about it much, because I love you and I don’t want to lose you.” 

The look on his face breaks her heart and instantly squashes any instinct she has to run. 

“Oliver,” she whispers, placing a hand on his heart. “No matter what you tell me about what you went through, it’s not going to change how much I love you.” 

“You can’t say that,” he says quietly, closing his eyes in pain. “You don’t know.” 

“You have to give me more credit,” she says. “I’m not the same girl you left behind five years ago.” 

Felicity thinks back on the things she’s seen in the last few years and the trauma she’s had to deal with. She may not be littered with scars in the same way that Oliver is, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t been through her own hell. She thinks of finding Tommy lying nearly dead on his bathroom floor and how traumatizing that had been. But she’s still standing and she wonders what it is about her that gives Oliver the impression she’s made of glass. 

She didn’t run when she found out that he’s The Hood, what could he possibly tell her that would make her leave? 

“And I’m barely the same man,” he says. “But one thing is still the same… I want to tell you everything I just… I need more time.” 

“I don’t want to leave, Oliver,” she says. “But I also don’t want us to keep going down this road, both of us getting deeper into this thing only to have you realize that you need somebody more like Helena. More like you.” 

“I don’t need somebody more like me,” he says. 

She’s about to respond, but she can see him gathering his thoughts and so she gives him time. 

“I spent five years in absolute darkness and terror. And most days, that feels unsurmountable. But there are moments with you… I just… I’m not ready to talk about all of it yet, but I promise you I’ll try to get better.” 

Felicity closes the small gap between them and brushes her lips against his. He takes her cue and drops his hands to her waist and pulls her closer against him, feasting upon her like a man starved. 

“It’s only been a night,” she laughs as she pulls away for air and his lips go straight to her neck, not missing a beat. 

Oliver pulls back to look at her with lust-filled eyes. “Let’s go home.” 

Felicity wants more than anything to say yes and drag him back to her apartment and into bed, but she can’t. She needs to be responsible and think about their city. There is still a very large problem they have to deal with. 

She puts her hands on his chest to stop him from kissing her again. 

“We can’t,” she says, regretfully. 

Oliver looks confused as she leans over her desk to pull the file on Helena out that she’d had printed just for him. She hands it to him. 

“Helena,” he says, looking over the file. 

“The Huntress,” she clarifies and tries her best to keep the accusatory tone out of her voice but isn’t sure she succeeds. She may have forgiven Oliver but that doesn’t mean she has to like the murderous psychopath. 

“She’s likely going to kill again. And if her MO is anything to go by, she’s planning on starting a mob war to cover up her dirty work.” Felicity pats his chest, gently pushing him away as she moves to her feet. “Suit up.” 

“You want me to take her on as The Hood,” he says in shock. 

“How else would you suggest taking her on?” she asks. 

“Helena is hurt and confused, she just needs some direction,” Oliver says. 

“Helena… Right,” Felicity says, shaking her head. 

“This isn’t a sex thing,” he says. “I just don’t want to see her go down a path I went down. She needs to see what you’ve been teaching me. That there’s another way.” 

“The Huntress was a member of a group of assassins in Italy. A literal group of assassins. What makes you think she can be redeemed?” she asks. 

“I need to believe she can be saved,” he says. 

Felicity doesn’t like it. She’s seen Helena’s handywork. She doesn’t believe there’s anything about that woman that can be redeemed. Not anymore. But the look in Oliver’s eyes tells her that he needs to believe it. That he needs to at least try. 

She bites her tongue. 

“You don’t have to help me,” he says. 

“I’m not sending you out there alone, are you insane?” she says. 

“I’m not alone. I have Digg,” he says. “You have plans with Tommy tonight. Take a night off. You need it. I’ll come by after I’m done.” 

Felicity weighs her options. She could go down to the bunker and run coms for Oliver while he tries to stop whatever it is The Huntress has planned. She could subject herself to the emotional torture of listening to Oliver talk to Helena. Or she could trust Digg to have his back and enjoy a night off with Tommy. 

“If it makes you feel better, I can put a tracker in my boot so you can keep your eyes on me at all times,” he says. 

“Tommy  _ did _ want to talk to me tonight…” she says, thinking about how Tommy had planned on talking to his dad this morning about how his accounts had apparently been frozen. 

“Well there you have it,” Oliver says with a smile and a quick kiss to the lips. “I can take care of Helena, and you can go enjoy dinner with Tommy.” 

He grabs her coat off of the hook and helps her into it. “Just so long as you save room for dessert later,” he whispers into her ear. 

“What kind of dessert are we talking?” she asks, looking back over her shoulder at him suggestively. 

“Preferably the naked kind that I can lick off of you,” he says with a wink. 

Felicity feels a shiver of desire move through her. “You know I hated that line when you and Tommy would use it in college, but…” 

“But when I use it on you, you realize how tempting it sounds?” he laughs. 

“Only if I get to eat it off of you,” she says, grabbing her purse as she turns off the lights and they walk out of the office. 

“Deal,” he says. 

“Good,” she says. 

The two of them walk hand in hand to the parking garage. Oliver leans down to kiss her goodbye before helping her into her car. 

“Be safe,” she tells him. 

“I promise,” he says. “I wouldn’t dream of missing dessert.” 

Felicity watches him walk over to his motorcycle and start it up before looking back at her. She rolls her eyes when she realizes that he’s waiting for her to leave first. Oliver calls it chivalry and Tommy calls it being overprotective, but Felicity knows it’s really just Oliver’s anxiety. 

Oliver is right. He’s not the same man he was before, but that doesn’t mean that they can’t make this work. Felicity just has to learn to trust in his love for her. She can’t give up on him.


	12. Late Night Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Felicity continue their talk about Helena after hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic takes place a few hours after the previous fic "Don't Give Up."   
> A complete timeline of this series can be found here  
> ([Home Verse Timeline](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13304013))

Felicity closes her eyes as warm chocolate is drizzled down her arm and then her palm. Oliver waits a moment, before his tongue begins traveling down the same path, lapping up the chocolate as he goes. Felicity squeezes her thighs together as wetness pools, soaking the lacy underwear she’d put on just for him. 

One by one, Oliver pulls each of her fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean, causing her to moan loudly. She reaches out to try and grab onto him and pull him up, but there’s nothing to hold onto, he’s already taken his shirt off. 

“Felicity,” Oliver whispers her name and she moans again as his breath tickles her wet skin. 

“Felicity,” he says again. 

“Oliver,” she calls out, her entire body throbbing with need. 

Oliver moves away and she assumes he’s going to grab more chocolate, but instead, she feels him settle down beside her. “You know that I love you?” he says. 

Her eyes fly open at the serious tone in his voice. 

“What?” she asks, looking into his eyes. She can see anger and self-loathing there and it instantly kills the mood. 

She sits up in bed and he follows her. “You know that I love you, right?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” she says, quietly, reaching out to place a hand against his heart. She isn’t sure what brought this on. He’d been fine a few minutes ago. “Is everything okay?” 

Oliver shakes his head. “I was an ass.” 

“More times in your life than you can count, I’m sure,” she teases, trying to lighten the mod and get him to smile. The intensity in his eyes has her worried. 

“You were right about Helena,” he says and she sighs. 

So that’s what this is about. Felicity had assumed they’d buried this earlier tonight, but she should have known better. John had told her what had happened out in the field. Oliver had tried to confront Helena and they’d both been kidnapped by the Bertinelli crew. Afterwards, once John had helped them break out, Oliver tried to get Helena to see reason. As Felicity had expected, she hadn’t. She is determined to get justice against her father, no matter the body count. 

Oliver hadn’t brought it up though. When he’d shown up at her doorstep an hour ago, he’d walked her straight to her room and began making love to her. They’d already had sex in the shower before he’d laid towels out on her bed and pulled the chocolate out of his bag. She assumed he didn’t want to talk about it and she was happy not to have to think about Helena. 

She should have known better though. Their conversation in her office before wasn’t really sufficient. They didn’t talk this through like they should have. 

“I’m sorry, Oliver,” she says, honestly. She didn’t want to have to tell him ‘I told you so,’ here. She could tell how much he needed to believe she could be redeemed. “I know you wanted it to play out differently with her.” 

“I want you,” he says, pointed. 

“I know,” she says, and he gives her a doubtful look. “I do know that,” she says again, pinching him in his side. “I just had a moment of insecurity. Everyone is allowed those.” 

“Even me?” he asks, sadly. 

Felicity gives him a fond look as she lays back in bed and pulls him down with her. She’s been in love with this broody idiot since the 6th grade. He can’t honestly believe that she’s going to stay mad at him for being scared to talk to her about the island. “Yeah, even the great Oliver Queen.” 

Oliver plays with a curl that has made its way out of her ponytail. 

“I shouldn’t have talked to Helena about the island,” he says. “I just… I didn’t have anything to lose by talking to her. I have everything to lose with you.” 

“But you aren’t going to lose me, Oliver,” she says adamantly. 

Oliver looks her in the eyes carefully, searching for something. “You wouldn’t have walked away tonight if I’d have let you?” he asks, doubtfully. 

Felicity sighs. He’s right. She would have run if he’d let her. But that was her own issue, it had nothing to do with whatever he went through while he was gone. 

“I would have come back,” she says, ashamed she’d tried to run in the first place, validating the fear he has that he’s not good enough and she is going to leave him. Her issues combined with his own is a ticking time bomb. 

“Why?” Oliver asks, still playing with her curl, refusing to meet her eyes. “The smart thing to do is run.” 

Felicity reaches out to grab onto his wrist. He drops the curl and cups her cheek instead and she leans into the touch. 

“We’ve been through this, Oliver,” she says. “You’re waiting for me to tell you to go and it’s not going to happen.” 

“You’re waiting for me to get bored of this, and that’s not going to happen,” Oliver says, pointedly. 

Felicity bites back her retort that it could. She knows that’s her own insecurity talking and it doesn’t come from him. He doesn’t want anyone else but her. He’s said as much. Now, she just needs him to start showing it more. 

She closes her eyes, not wanting to see his reaction as she says, “It’d be easier to believe if I didn’t keep finding you with beautiful woman.” 

“You’re the most beautiful woman I know,” Oliver says. 

Felicity shakes her head. He can’t cover this up with cheesy lines. She’s not Laurel. “Flattery is going to get you nowhere, Queen.” 

Oliver sighs deeply. “You’re right… I don’t have an excuse.” 

“I know you cheated on Laurel because you didn’t love her,” she says. 

“I didn’t,” he agrees. 

“And it’s not fair for me to compare our relationship to your relationship with her. You’re not the same guy you were,” she says. 

“And you mean way more to me than Laurel ever did,” he says. 

“You can understand though, how my insecurities keep leading me back to her. How it might scare me that you’d be able to cheat on me as easily as you cheated on her,” she says. 

Oliver nods as he stares at a spot on the wall beyond her, unable to meet her eyes. “I do. I don’t like it, but I do,” he says. “I wish I could go back and change that. I was awful back then.” 

Felicity doesn’t disagree with him. He was awful back then. Not to her. Never to her. At least, not intentionally. But he never treated the girls he hooked up with with any kind of respect. However, that was five years ago and she has to believe that he’s changed. 

He  _ has _ changed. Felicity knows that he hasn’t cheated on her, despite the fact that women throw themselves at him all the time. So she either needs to find a way to get over this fear she has that he’s going to find somebody else, or she needs to break up with him. Their relationship won’t work if she can’t trust him. 

“Well, neither of us is perfect,” she says. 

“You might be,” he says with a smile. 

“I’m not,” she snorts, shaking her head. “I run away when I’m scared. And you…” 

“I shut down and don’t talk to the people that matter,” he says. 

“Yeah…” 

“Yeah.” He sighs, his hand dropping back to his side. “What are we going to do? How do we make this work? How can I make this better?” 

“We need to trust each other,” she says. “I can’t run and you can’t shut down. But we both have to realize that it won’t always be easy and trust each other more.” 

Oliver nods, but he doesn’t respond. He goes quiet for awhile. Felicity rolls over onto her side and gently pushes him onto his back so that she can lay her head on his shoulder. 

“I want to tell you something, but I’m not sure I can make it through the whole thing… Or that I’m ready for you to hear all of the details,” he says, staring up at the ceiling.

“Okay.” Felicity rests her chin on his shoulder and watches him carefully. “Why don’t you try and we can see how far you get?” 

Oliver nods, but it takes another minute before he actually says something. 

“I know that you think I wanted to redeem Helena because it meant that maybe I could redeem myself,” he says. 

“Yeah.” 

“That’s not it,” he says and Felicity gives him a knowing look. “Okay, that’s not only it.” 

“Okay,” she says carefully, not wanting to scare him off from whatever it is that he’s trying to tell her. 

Oliver’s eyes scan the ceiling and she wonders what it is that he’s searching for. He takes several long breathes before he finally starts talking. 

“I had a friend on the island,” he says so quietly that she has to strain herself to hear. “Until… Well something happened. Something bad. We both lost somebody that we cared about and he blamed me for it. He was right to. It was my fault. And he lost it. He went down a path that I couldn’t follow. And I tried to pull him back, but I couldn’t save him.” 

Felicity remains quiet as she waits for him to finish the story, but when it becomes clear that he isn’t going to continue, she asks, “What happened to him?” 

“I had to kill him,” Oliver says bluntly and it causes her to gasp involuntarily. Oliver moves to look at her. “He was going to kill me for what I did. And I tried… I just couldn’t… So I killed him first.” 

“Oliver,” she says, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his cheek as he allows a few tears to fall. Her heart breaks for him. She can’t imagine what it must be like to have to kill somebody that you once cared about. 

“I should have done more to save him,” he says. “

“I can’t imagine,” she says, her heart shattering at the pained look in his eyes. 

“The dragon tattoo on my back is from him,” Oliver admits. “He wanted me to have a permanent reminder of the person that we both lost. He thought I should have to carry the guilt around forever.” 

“I can’t imagine,” she says, thinking about how terribly unfair that is. Even if this person dying was Oliver’s fault, Felicity knows him well enough to know that he’d never intentionally let harm fall to somebody he cares about. He shouldn’t have to shoulder that burden for the rest of his life. “I’m so sorry, Oliver.” 

“Me, too. I’ve never forgiven myself for what happened to him,” he confesses. “For what happened to both of them, really. I thought… With Helena that maybe I could… That this time would be different. It wasn’t. And when she walked away from me it was like I was losing him all over again.” 

Felicity nods, feeling incredibly sad for him. She can see now he was so content on redeeming Helena. Unfortunately, he’s never going to get the forgiveness he needs for killing his friend from saving The Huntress. She’s too far gone.  

“You know my mom always says that’s the worst thing about free will,” she says, caressing his cheek with her thumb. “People are free to make their own choices, even when it’s the wrong one. Sometimes you try your best to help and that’s all you can do. Not everyone can be saved.” 

Oliver closes his eyes tightly and she wipes away another tear that falls down his cheek. 

“I hopes that’s not true about me,” he whispers, not opening his eyes. 

Felicity props herself up on her elbow so that she can see him properly. She then moves her hand to rest on his heart. His own hand moves to cover her own. 

“Hey,” she says and waits for him to open his eyes and look at her. “You’re a good man with a good heart.” 

“Raisa says that all the time,” he says with a roll of his eyes. 

“Because it’s true,” she says. 

Oliver shakes his head. “There’s a darkness inside of me that I can’t always control.” 

Felicity isn’t blind. She’s seen the signs. She’s seen the moments where he loses himself under his hood. She knows that Oliver brought a little bit of a monster back with him that he’s been struggling to contain. But he has been containing it. There might be a battle going on inside of him, but he’s winning. He just has to keep fighting and be patient with himself. 

“That’s what your friends are here for,” she says. “To help you when you don’t know how to help yourself anymore.” 

“Friends?” he asks, giving her a playful look. She can tell that he’s reached his limit of serious talking and that’s fine. He’s shared enough for one night. She’ll let him defuse the tension with humor. 

“Occasional bed buddy?” she teases. 

Oliver snorts as he grabs her arm and pulls her on top of him. She laughs. 

“Occasional bed buddy?” he asks with a laugh that she can feel all the way to her toes. 

She enjoys Oliver when he’s like this. He’s always so serious since coming back from the island. And she gets it. There’s a lot that he’s dealing with. A part of her is glad that he doesn’t treat his life like one ongoing joke anymore. However, she misses the part of Old Oliver that used to have fun. She likes when he lets himself relax long enough to remember what that felt like. 

“Frequent bed buddy?” she continues to tease him as he starts tickling her. She rolls off of him to get away, but he just follows after her, rolling on top of her to trap her with his weight. She laughs uncontrollably as he continues to tickle her and she begs him to stop. He tickles her until she’s crying before he finally accepts her surrender. 

“How about love of my life?” he asks, looking down at her with such a fond, lovestruck expression it’s hard to believe that she’d ever actually doubted his feelings for her earlier. 

“I like that,” she says with a smile, leaning up to kiss him. 

“Me, too,” he says before nudging her legs apart so that he can settle his weight between them and rest his head against her heart. It’s one of his favorite cuddling positions. 

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” she says, reaching down to run her fingers through his hair, enjoying how it always makes him practically purr like a kitten. 

“I can’t promise that I’ll always be able to, but I promise that I’ll always try.” He rests his chin against her chest and looks up at her. “I don’t want to mess this up.” 

“Then don’t,” she says. “Keep trying. That’s all I need.” 

“Yeah,” he says, resting his ear against her heart again. His fingers begin tracing patterns on her stomach. “Promise me that you’ll keep talking to me. That you’ll tell me when I’m doing something wrong rather than running away?” 

Felicity takes a deep breath, really taking his words to heart before she agrees. He’s right. Relationships only work when there’s open communication both ways. 

“I was serious before, Oliver,” she says. 

“Hmm?” 

“About the other women,” she says. “I really need you to stop putting yourself in situations where I have to question this.” 

“I don’t mean to—” he starts to say before cutting himself off. “I don’t want to.” 

“There’s a certain degree that you can’t control,” she says. “And I have to learn to live with that. You’re Starling City’s second most eligible bachelor. Women are going to throw themselves at you and neither of us can stop that. But there is a degree to which you can control it and I need you to be more mindful. You probably don’t even realize it, but you’re a flirt and you lead women on. Even if you don’t intend to ever do anything with them, you still put the idea of possibly in their minds and that’s not fair. Not to them, but especially not to me.” 

“That’s—” Oliver sounds like he’s about to protest before he stops himself. “That’s fair.” 

“That’s more than fair,” she says, pinching him in the side. 

“It is,” he says, placing a kiss to her exposed stomach. “You’re too good for me.” 

“There’s no such thing,” she says, pulling on his hair gently until he looks up at her. “I chose to give my heart to you so that means you’re good enough. There is no deserve or not deserve. We love each other, so we’re good enough.” 

Oliver nods before placing his head back down. “I do love you,” he says as he traces a heart into her skin. 

“And I love you,” she says. 

She runs her fingers up and down his back as he continues to draw on her skin, placing the occasional kiss to one of his pieces of work. One day she should really give him some paint and let him actually draw on her so that she can see what it is that he’s doodling all over her. She always tries to pay close enough attention to make something out, but she rarely can. 

“So I’m Starling City’s second most eligible bachelor?” he asks. 

Felicity snorts. Of course that’s what he held onto. 

“According to Starling City Today,” she says. “There was a poll. Actual people voted.” 

“Hmm. And who was number one?” he asks. 

“Tommy,” she says, biting back a smile as Oliver grumbles. Those two have always been competitive over things. Even titles they don’t care about. 

“Wait, how is that even possible,” he says. “Don’t you have to be single to be considered a bachelor? I’m not single.” 

“Single is a relative term, apparently,” she says, trying to hide the bitterness from her voice. Really, Felicity should have known better than to go into the comments section of that stupid article anyway. 

Oliver gives her a questioning look as she realizes that she probably hadn’t hidden her tone as well as she thought. He clearly wants an explanation, but she doesn't give him one. It’s only going to make him annoyed. It’s very likely it’ll trigger him into Overprotective!Oliver mode and nobody wants to see what that will look like. 

“Felicity,” he says in warning. 

She grumbles. He’s never been able to let things go. “Apparently you’re still considered an eligible bachelor because nobody believes you and I will last.” 

“That’s bullshit,” he says, immediately sitting up. 

Here they went. She knew this was going to happen. 

“Oliver, it’s fine,” she says, hoping he’ll let it go. 

“No, it’s bullshit!” he says. “I’m calling them. I’m going to make them print a retraction. I’m in no way an eligible bachelor. I’m taken. For life… Or as long as you’ll have me.” 

He reaches for his phone on the nightstand and she slaps his arm. 

“Don’t you dare call them,” she says in warning. She can already see the headlines now and they are mortifying. 

“Why not?” 

“Because it’s embarrassing,” she tells him. 

“It’s embarrassing for the world to know that you’re the love of my life?” he asks. 

“No,” she says pointedly, before he can start in on a whole other spiral. “It’s embarrassing for you to announce it to the world in some trashy magazine. Just post something on Facebook like a normal person!” 

“What’s a Facebook?” he asks, looking down at her confused. 

“Really?” she glares at him. 

“I could post something on Myspace. I probably still remember my password,” he says. 

“Stop,” she laughs. 

“What?” he asks with a smile that tells her he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

“Nobody uses Myspace anymore, grandpa. And you know what Facebook is, you jerk. You used to have one. I know this because you would always poke me like 500 times a day.” 

“I did,” he says. “I had to resort to poking you through Facebook because I didn’t believe you’d ever let me poke you for real.” 

Felicity grumbles at his incredibly bad innuendo. “Please stop talking,” she says. 

“You know I’m just teasing you,” he says, pushing her back down on the bed and kissing her. She tries to wrap her legs around him to pull him in closer, but he pulls away. 

“You’re an asshole,” she tells him, reaching out to try and pull him back, but he won’t let her. 

“More times in my life than I can count, according to you,” he says with a laugh. 

He reaches over to the nightstand and pulls his phone to him and starts clicking away. 

“What are you doing?” she asks, slightly nervous that he’s still planning on calling up the magazine and demanding a retraction. 

“I’m making a post on Facebook about the woman I’m going to marry one day. You said that’s what normal people do, right?” he says with a laugh.  A moment later, her phone pings with a notification.

“Oliver?” she asks curiously, as she grabs her own phone off the nightstand and reads the post he tagged her in. 

_ Feeling eternally grateful that my best friend continues to let me call her my girlfriend. One day, if I’m lucky enough, she’ll let me call her my wife.  _

Felicity starts to tear up before a comment comes through from Tommy, causing both of their phones to ping. 

_ You two are disgustingly in love. Like Jane Austen level. Go have sex like normal people.  _

A moment later, Felicity receives a text from Tommy. 

_ Told you he wasn’t interested in Helena ;)  _

“So?” Oliver says, taking her phone and putting it back on the nightstand next to his own. “Better than a magazine?” 

“Yes, better than a trashy magazine,” she says with a smile. She pushes on his shoulder until he rolls off of her and lays on his back. “Although you do realize now we’re never going to be able to escape the questions about when the wedding will be.” 

“You just tell me when and I’ll be there in a tux,” he says with a dopey smile and she rolls her eyes at him as she tries not to blush. He’s an idiot, but he’s her idiot and she wouldn't have it any other way. 

“Did you put drugs in this chocolate?” she teases him. “We’ve been dating five weeks.” 

“So?” he says with a shrug. “I’ve been in love with you for sixteen years.” 

“Well when you say it like that, I guess it doesn’t sound so crazy,” she says. 

“So you’ll marry me?” he asks. 

She laughs loudly in shock. “How about we work through some of our issues first before we dive in head first.” 

“Whatever you say, Mrs. Smoak,” Oliver says, still wearing that dopey grin. “That didn’t sound like a no, it sounded like a not yet.” 

Felicity rolls her eyes at him as she moves to straddle his chest and Oliver caresses her sides. She grabs the bowl of fancy chocolate from the warmer, prepared to continue what they started. 

“Felicity,” he says before she can pick up the spoon. 

“Hmm?” 

“You know you can talk to me, too,” he says. 

She nods. “Yeah, I know.” 

“About what happened to you while I was away,” he says and it causes her to freeze momentarily before she catches herself. 

“It’s fine,” she says, eager to avoid this conversation. 

“Tommy’s brought it up before. I know that things weren’t easy for you when I was away. I’d like to hear about it,” he tells her. 

“It was nothing compared to what you went through,” she says, stirring at the melted chocolate in the bowl.  

“It’s not a competition,” he says sternly. “And your pain could never be nothing.” 

“Okay,” she says with a nod, willing this conversation to be over already. She’s not ready to talk about what she went through while he was gone. Especially not when a very large part of what she went through isn’t her secret to share. It’s Tommy’s. 

“Yeah?” 

“Sometime,” she says, absently. 

“But not tonight,” he says. 

“No,” she says with a teasing smile. “Tonight I had plans to eat chocolate off of one of Starling City’s most eligible bachelors.” 

Oliver laughs as he rests his arms behind his head. “Is that so?” 

“Well a lady doesn’t come across this kind of opportunity everyday, you know,” she says with a wink. 

“Well then, by all means, enjoy,” he says. 

Felicity drizzles the warm chocolate over his chest and down his abs, watching as his stomach tenses with anticipation. She then lowers her head to lick at the chocolate before it can drip into the waistband of his boxers. Oliver’s hips lift off the bed and he moans. She smiles at how willingly he, Oliver Queen, notorious control freak, falls to putty at her hands. 

Felicity knows… She’s heard the stories… Oliver was never like this with the other women he slept with. He always had to be the one in control. She looks up at him now, his eyes closed and his hands held behind his head. He’s never had problems letting her take control. It fills her heart with warmth. 

They may not have everything figured out just yet. Oliver might not always be one with words. But when she’d told him that he needed to show her that he trusted her, that wasn’t fair. He’s already shown her that with how vulnerable he’s willing to make himself with her. Not just in sex. It’s more than that. Felicity is the only one he’s comfortable seeing him with his shirt off. She’s the only one he wants to see his scars. 

He may not be able to tell her the stories behind them, but he’s willing to let her see them and that’s huge. She has to remember that. 

Felicity licks the chocolate off of his abs then his chest before she captures his lips in a hungry kiss. 

“I love you,” she tells him when she pulls away. 

He opens his eyes to smile at her. “I love you, too.” 

“Good,” she says, holding the chocolate over his stomach as she moves to sit on his legs instead. “You should probably lose the boxers.” 

She smirks at him as she sits up on her knees and he quickly pulls the boxers off and lays back down. 

“Better?” he asks with raising his eyebrows in challenge. 

Felicity takes the spoon and drips the chocolate over his stomach and makes a path down his hip bone before she lets it pool at his inner thighs. 

“Much.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments mean the world!


	13. Everything You Know Can Change in an Instant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy finds out the truth about who Malcolm really is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt came from Stacey, who wanted to read about Tommy being the one to turn Malcolm in to the FBI.
> 
> This story takes place in January 2013, a little over a week after the events in Kensington Clinic. A full timeline can be found here:  Home Verse Timeline 

Tommy stands at the stove yawning as he prepares to cook his breakfast. It’s nearly one in the afternoon, but to be fair, he didn’t get in until nearly four. He’d stayed late at Verdant trying to get some things in order to prepare for their opening in a few weeks. With the fire two weeks ago, there had been a lot of additional work. Tommy hasn’t wanted to postpone the opening though, so instead, he’s been paying guys overtime to get the work done. 

He’s about to crack his first egg when suddenly, somebody starts banging on the front door repeatedly. He turns off the stove before moving through the apartment, trying to figure out who would be pounding down their door in the middle of the day. He glances through the peephole when he gets to the door and is surprised to see Felicity on the other end. 

“What the hell?” he asks as he swings the door open and she comes barging in without an invitation. Not that she ever needs one, but it’s still very unlike her. That mixed with her wide and wild eyes has Tommy’s stomach dropping to his toes. Something horrible has to have happened. 

“Where would he take him?” she asks, her eyes barely leaving the tablet she’s furiously typing away at as she paces the floor. 

“Take who where? What?” he asks, struggling to comprehend what exactly is going on here. Tommy hasn’t seen her like this in a long time. Not since they’d gotten the alert about Hong Kong… “Wait, did something happen to Oliver?” 

Tommy’s blood runs cold as Felicity finally looks up from her screen. Her eyes are bloodshot and her mascara is smeared down her cheeks. She’s been crying. Tommy knows now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that something has happened to Oliver and he needs to know what. 

“Where would Malcolm take him?” she asks desperately. 

His dad? Why would his dad take Oliver anywhere? 

“Felicity,” he says, reaching out to place calming hands on her shoulders and to get her to stop pacing. It’s making him even more anxious than he already is. “You’ve got to back it up and tell me what is going on so that I can help you.” 

“Your dad took Oliver and now we can’t find him anywhere,” she says. “Where would he take him?” 

Tommy shakes his head as she tries to process her words. 

“Why would he take him anywhere?” he asks. 

Felicity rubs her eyes with her free hand, not bothering to fix her glasses when they are knocked askew. She takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders before looking at him. 

“Your father is not who you think he is,” she tells him. 

“Well I think he’s an asshole, but I don’t understand what that has to do with Oliver.”

Felicity grabs his hand and leads him over to the couch, pushing him until he sits down. She adjusts her glasses and resumes her pacing and typing for another minute. Each second she doesn’t tell him what the hell is happening, his skin itches that much more. Tommy goes over her words again, trying to figure out why she would think that his dad had taken Oliver. Stressing over what has happened to his best friend, Tommy’s nerves begin firing against his will as his fingers twitch with need. 

It’s not often anymore that he feels like this, but with the prospect of Oliver missing again, he’s reminded of some of his darkest moments and he needs a hit. He closes his eyes in the hopes that not seeing her pace will ease his anxiety, but he can still hear her footsteps. 

His eyes snap open. “Felicity!” he finally yells when he can’t take it anymore. 

“Right,” she says. She places the tablet down and sits next to him. She takes his hands in her own. 

“Lis, you’re seriously freaking me out here,” he says, hoping she doesn’t notice how his hands are shaking. Considering hers are too, it’s doubtful she will. 

“I know and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry but I need to tell you something and you’re not going to like what I have to say,” she explains. “But I need you to hear me out, okay?” 

“Okay…” 

His heartbeat quickens and he tries to steel himself for bad news. 

“For the past several years, your father has been planning a mass terrorist attack against the Glades,” she says. 

Tommy laughs. She has to be joking. When she doesn’t so much as smile, he stops. “What? That’s insane.” 

“It’s insane, but it’s true,” she says. “He has been building a machine that can simulate an earthquake. He planned on using it to level the Glades.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head, refusing to listen. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. “My dad isn’t winning any father of the year awards, but he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t… kill people.” 

Just hearing the words come out of his mouth is enough to convince him that she’s wrong. She has to be wrong. There is absolutely no way that his father is a murderer. He would know. 

“He would,” she says, squeezing his hands. “He’s going to. At least, he was until the device went missing.” 

Tommy shakes his head, yanking his hands out of hers as he stands up and begins pacing. 

“Why are you doing this?” he asks. 

Felicity is his friend. She wouldn’t lie about something like this. Not purposefully. She has to be confused. She got bad information. She’s wrong. His dad isn’t a terrorist. He can’t be. It’s literally the most insane thing he’s ever heard. He swallows the lump in his throat and tries not to cry out of pure frustration. 

Felicity picks up the tablet and types away at it before standing up and handing it to him. 

“That’s the earthquake machine he had built,” she says, pointing to the picture on the screen. She then swipes left to the blueprint of it. “It’s called the Markov Device.” She swipes left again to an email. “This was a deleted email that I was able to pull and decode proving your father commissioned the work.” 

“No,” Tommy says, shaking his head, pushing the tablet back into her hands. “So he built a machine. So what? That doesn’t mean he was going to use it to level the Glades. Merlyn Global funds non-for-profit research. This is that. It has to be.” 

“There’s more,” Felicity pushes the tablet back into his hands, giving him a pitying look that makes him sick. 

Tommy doesn’t want to see any more. Instead, his brain fixates on the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. Mentally catalogs the supply of meds Laurel has, trying to determine if any of them would give him the calm he needs. It’s all over the counter stuff, but perhaps the cough meds would work if he had a high enough dosage. 

“Tommy, take a deep breath,” she tells him calmly. She walks him backwards until he’s sitting back down on the couch and she’s sitting on the coffee table in front of him. “Focus on the air coming in through your lungs. Pay attention to the way your body reacts.” 

Tommy shakes his head. He doesn’t want her to help ground him right now. He wants her to tell him that she was wrong. That his dad can’t possibly be a murderer and that his world isn’t falling apart at the seams. 

“Breathe,” Felicity says, picking up his hands and placing them against her chest. “Match my breaths. Your body doesn’t need anything that you aren’t already giving it. You’re fine. Just breathe with me.” 

“He’s not a murderer,” he says and Felicity just shushes him. 

Tommy closes his eyes and does what she says. He listens to her instructions and pushes everything out of his mind and focuses on matching her breathing. Eventually his heart rate slows down. When he opens his eyes, she’s crying. 

“I’m sorry,” she says as he drops his hands to his lap. 

“Because you’re wrong?” he asks, hopefully, even though he’s pretty sure that she wouldn’t have told him this at all if there was even the slightest possibility she were wrong. 

“Deep down, you always knew what he was capable of. It’s why you’re afraid of him, even though he’s never laid a finger on you. You knew, Tommy,” she whispers. “Maybe you didn’t know the plan, but you knew he was capable of.” 

Felicity places the tablet back in his hands and he stares down at it, terrified of what he’s going to find out. 

“Look through that if you need more convincing,” Felicity says. “But know that we’re on a clock, and Oliver needs your help if we’re going to find him alive.” 

Tommy closes his eyes as a wave of nausea hits him. 

“So it’s true then? Oliver’s missing?” he asks with a shaky breath. 

Felicity reaches out to touch his knee, her grip firm and he looks up to see her trembling. “Please help me find him. I can’t… I…” 

“We’ll find him,” Tommy promises, even though he still doesn’t understand what happened to him. 

Felicity nods and stands up. “I’m going to call John to see if he’s found anything,” she says with a brave smile. “Look through that. It’ll help you understand.” 

Tommy looks back down at the tablet and swipes quickly through all of the evidence that Felicity has compiled. There are destroyed police reports, sales receipts of companies his father has bought, but it’s the surveillance photos of Felicity that stop his heart. There are hundreds, dating all the way back to Christmas. 

The hit. 

Tommy feels his heart beat increase again as he realizes that the people who have been trying to kill Felicity were paid by his dad. 

There is a photo of Walter in a dark room with a bruise on the side of his head. It’s from a text message his dad received along with the message, “The proof of life you requested.” Tommy wonders if maybe his father is being blackmailed with Walter. If maybe that is why he’s doing all of this awful stuff. But a string of text messages between Felicity and Walter prove otherwise. Walter had been looking into the Gambit’s disappearance and Felicity had been helping him. They believed the yacht was sabotaged. There are phone records of his dad calling known hit men in the hours leading up to Walter’s kidnapping. 

Then there is the picture that hurts more than anything else: the image of the Gambit in pieces. 

“No,” he says, shaking his head as Felicity comes back into the room. “It was a storm.” 

An accident — a force of nature brought down the Gambit and destroyed Tommy and Felicity’s lives. He’s spent years coming to terms with the fact that there was nothing he could have done. That he wasn’t to blame for Oliver’s death. Now he’s staring at a picture that is telling him that may not be true. That his father might have had a hand in Robert and Sara’s death. That his dad may be the cause of Oliver’s five years spent shipwrecked on that island. 

“You and I always knew there was something odd about that story,” she said. “We spent years trying to figure out why it didn’t sit well with us. Moira knew the truth. She investigated and found the Gambit. And then your father started threatening her to keep quiet.” 

Tommy shakes his head, but Felicity leans over him and begins swiping through threatening messages in which a distorted voice is telling Moira that they’ll kill Thea if she brings what she knows to the police. 

“That could be anyone,” Tommy says. Moira and Malcolm are good friends. His dad wouldn’t threaten her. Nor would he have killed Robert. There’s something wrong about all of this. It doesn’t fit. 

“Tommy,” she says carefully, pleading with him to listen. “These messages were pulled off a ghost drive on your dad’s private server. I hacked into his phone and he has voice distortion software installed. This is your dad.” 

Tommy sets the tablet on the sofa and leans back, closing his eyes and he tries to process everything he’s just learned. He runs a trembling hand over his face. 

“How could I not have known?” he asks as Felicity picks up the tablet and pulls back up a map of the city. 

“We want to believe the best of the people we love,” she says. “But people like this, they are master manipulators. You and I both watch Criminal Minds. Serial killers are almost always the people you least expect. The ones that blend in seamlessly.” 

“My dad is a serial killer,” Tommy whispers, testing the words out on his lips. It still feels wrong to say it. Felicity reaches out to rub comforting circles into his back. “Did he really take Oliver?” 

Felicity bites her lips as tears fall down her face. She nods. 

“Why?” Tommy asks, feeling angry. “What does Oliver have to do with any of this?” 

Felicity sighs. “It’s my fault. I found some suspicious information about your dad on the servers at work and decided to investigate further. I showed Oliver what your dad was planning and we didn’t feel like we could go to the authorities. He’s got at least half of the SCPD in his back pocket already. So when I found out where the device was being held, Oliver and John went to steal it.” 

“What?” Tommy practically yells. “You let them do that? Felicity, you just said that my dad is a murderer! They could have been killed.” 

“John was army special forces,” she says. “He can take care of it. And they found the device. Your dad doesn’t have it anymore.” 

“That’s why he took Oliver?” Tommy asks, his body paralyzed with fear. “Because he wants his device back?” 

“Oliver thought he could get your dad to see reason. That he could talk some sense into him,” Felicity says. “He confronted him.” 

“My dad doesn’t see reason…” 

“I haven’t seen Oliver since he left to talk to your dad last night,” she says, her voice breaking. “His cell phone goes straight to voicemail and the tracker I had him wear has been shut off. Digg and I went to your dad’s office this morning… It’s clear there was a fight…” 

“Damnit Felicity!” Tommy yells. “Why would you guys do this on your own?” 

“I already told you, the police can’t be trusted,” she says. “We weren’t going to sit by and watch him destroy the Glades and murder thousands just so that we could sit back in our ivory tower and remain safe.” 

“How do you even know that Oliver is still alive?” he asks. 

Felicity shakes her head as she begins to sob. “I don’t,” she says. 

He stands up and pulls her into a crushing hug. 

“I just have to hope that your dad wants the device badly enough and that Oliver is strong enough not to give it to him that he’ll continue to torture him until Digg can find him,” she says, clutching at his back as she continues to cry. 

Tommy’s heart feels like it’s breaking into a thousand pieces. As terrified as he is to lose Oliver and as upset as he is to find out the truth about his father, what he’s most worried about is Felicity. He doesn’t know if she’ll survive losing Oliver again. 

“We’ll find him,” he promises, even though he really shouldn’t say anything that he doesn’t know for sure. “My dad wouldn’t…” 

He’s about to say that his dad wouldn’t kill Oliver. That he’s known Oliver since he was a baby and that he wouldn’t kill him, but he can’t say that. Not anymore. Not with the knowledge that his dad killed his best friend and his been threatening his best friend’s wife for years. If his dad is willing to threaten Thea, what’s stopping him from killing Oliver? 

“I’ll find him,” he says. 

He carefully extracts her from his arms and sets her down on the couch. He then moves into the kitchen to get her a glass of water. Once he’s satisfied that she’ll be okay on her own, he steps into the bedroom. He grabs his cell phone off of the nightstand and calls his dad. He doesn’t know what he’ll say when he answers, but he has to at least try and get information from him. 

“I’m a little busy at the moment, Tommy,” his dad answers. 

Tommy’s blood boils at the sound of his voice. If he were standing in front of him, Tommy would likely punch him in his smug, lying, murderous face. He’s about to demand that his dad tells him where Oliver is, when Felicity walks in shaking her head and waving at him to stop. 

Tommy looks at her curiously as she holds up her tablet. Tommy sees a little red dot bouncing around various places in the city and a banner with an icon of a phone next to a timer saying 5 seconds and counting up. She pulls her cell phone out of her pocket and he reads over her shoulder as she types in, “Keep him talking. Tracing call.” 

“Tommy?” his dad says sharply. 

“Yeah?” he asks, trying to figure out how to keep his dad on the phone long enough for Felicity to ping his location. 

“What did you need? I’m busy,” his dad snaps. 

Tommy nearly snaps back, but he swallows his anger and tries to act like everything is normal. His dad can’t know that he knows about Oliver or his plan to level the city. He needs to be smarter than that. 

“I wanted to talk to you about Mom’s clinic,” Tommy says, bringing up the last thing Malcolm had asked him about. Hoping it will be enough to keep his dad from hanging up on him. 

“I told you, I don’t care much for sentiment,” his dad says. “You aren’t going to change my mind about tearing it down.” 

“I know,” Tommy says. “I’ve been thinking about what you said about closing it. I realized that I never asked you why.” 

Malcolm pauses and Tommy can just picture the surprised look on his face. “Have you changed your mind about signing the paperwork?” he asks. 

Tommy watches at the search narrows down to the west side of the city. It’s still not enough. Tommy has to keep him talking. He has a feeling, based on the sounds of boats in the background, that he knows where his father is right now, but he has to be sure. Oliver’s life may depend on it. 

“I’m considering it,” Tommy says, trying to swallow the anger he feels at his father for carelessly tossing his mother’s legacy to the side. In light of everything else he’s clearly done, trying to close his mom’s clinic is hardly the worst. 

“What made you change your mind?” his dad asks. 

“Something Laurel said,” he lies. “The clinic is run down. It’s not up to the standard of care that mom expected. She’d be disappointed. The clinic is a symbol of her legacy, and right now it’s tarnishing it. Part of me would like to restore it to its former glory, but I’m open to other suggestions.” 

His dad sighs. 

“The clinic has never been up to the standard that your mom was hoping it would be,” he explains, his voice losing it’s harsh edge. Tommy can hear a hint of affection in his voice and he’s reminded of the father Malcolm used to be. Before his mother passed away. “Even when she was still alive, they struggled to staff the clinic properly. No matter how much resources we poured into the place, we couldn’t get people behind the cause. Nobody cared about the Glades, even the people in the Glades. Then, one night, on her way home from that very clinic where she gave her heart and soul to help people, she was murdered. Shot and killed by the very people she had pledged to protect.” 

Tommy has heard this story before, but it’s the first time he’s hearing this story since learning about his dad’s true nature. Tommy knows why his dad had planned to attack the Glades. He blames them for his mother’s death. He always has. 

“They didn’t deserve your mother and they don’t deserve that clinic,” Malcolm says, the usual harsh tone of voice returning to his words. “The clinic is broken into and vandalized nearly weekly. It’s a money pit and for what? They don’t appreciate what she tried to do for them. It should be torn down. Let them suffer.” 

Tommy is about to tell his dad off. Remind him that there are innocent people in the Glades that don’t deserve to die for what one man did twenty years ago. But Felicity waves at him to keep talking. They are closing in on a location. The little dot is bouncing around a few block radius near the docks. Tommy can tell his dad off and risk getting hung up on, or he can help save Oliver. 

Tommy stares at the ceiling and tries to reign in his temper as he says. “If I sign that paperwork, the money has to be redirected towards another cause.” 

He has no intention of signing that paperwork ever. If anything, his commitment to keeping the clinic open is increased tenfold in light of learning about his father’s insane plans. But his dad doesn’t have to know the truth. He just has to keep him on the line. 

“I won’t let you close it down and then pocket from the profits,” he says. His dad will be suspicious if he changes his tune without any hesitance. “Mom intended that money to go towards helping the sick, and it will.” 

“We can talk about it later,” he says. “I’m glad you’re starting to see the light. But like I said, I’m busy here. I’ll call you tonight.” 

“No, wait! Dad!” Tommy yells, but it’s too late. His dad has hung up the phone. “Damnit!” 

“I got it narrowed down to a four block radius, but he hung up before I could get an exact location,” Felicity says, frustrated. 

“It’s okay,” Tommy says, taking the tablet from her hands to look at the map. “I’m pretty sure I know where he is.” 

Tommy points to a warehouse on the map and Felicity zooms in to get a closer look at the building. 

“Merlyn Global used to own that building before we sold it to Queen Consolidated. QC used it to hold the goods the steel factory would make while they waited for the boats to ship everything overseas. They haven’t found a new use for it since the factory shut down. I’m guessing Dad knows that and that he also knows you’d be looking for Oliver in every Merlyn Global owned property. This is a safe bet.” 

“Tommy, thank you!” she says, pulling him in for a quick hug. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” 

Felicity dials a number on her phone and holds it up as she waits for the person on the other line to answer. 

“Hey, John?... Yeah, I think we may have him… An old QC warehouse by the docks. 345 Rushmore Avenue,” she says. “Please, be safe. You don't have any idea what you’re walking into and I don’t have time to try and hack into a satellite to get heat signatures.” 

Felicity hangs up the phone and shoves it into her pocket before turning to look at him. 

“You may have just saved Oliver’s life,” she says. 

Tommy hopes that’s true, because the alternative is that Oliver is already dead and neither of them will be able to handle that. He sits down on the bed, sinking into the mattress as the world spins around him. 

“I can’t believe this,” he says. “I mean, I know my dad has some questionable morals, but mass murder?” 

“It’s hard to wrap your mind around it, huh,” she says, sinking down next to him and placing an arm around his shoulder. He leans into her touch, resting his head against hers. “Oliver didn’t talk to me for weeks when I told him about his mom’s involvement.” 

“That’s why you two were fighting before Christmas?” Tommy asks and he can feel her nod. 

“Walter knew something was going on with Moira and so he asked me to start investigating. Oliver wasn’t happy to find out what I’d learned. He was in denial and took it out on me. It wasn’t until recently that I realized your dad was the one pulling the strings.” 

“You and Oliver really tried to take him down by yourselves?” Tommy asks in disbelief. 

“He was threatening Moira and Thea. He kidnapped Walter,” she says as if that’s ample explanation. 

“He was the one that put the hit on you,” Tommy says through gritted teeth. “You both could have been killed.” 

“We had John helping us,” she says. “And we didn’t know who we could trust at the police department. We thought about going to Detective Lance, but he’s not high up enough. Your dad is best friends with the police chief and the DA. We were worried they would bury it and tip him off that we knew the truth. We couldn’t risk it.” 

“How long have you known?” he asks. 

“How long have I suspected or how long have I known?” she asks. 

“Both.” 

“We found out about the Markov device four days ago,” she says. “We’ve suspected he was involved in something for about two weeks.” 

“Two weeks…” Two weeks is a long time and she never said a word. Neither of them did. “Why didn’t you tell me? Did you think I was working with him?” 

“Of course not!” she says, looking at him like he’s crazy. “Malcolm is your dad. I guess a part of me was hoping we would have the whole thing figured out before you had to find out. I didn’t want to put you in the middle of anything. No matter what he’s doing, he’s still your father.” 

“He’s a criminal,” Tommy says darkly. He deserves to rot in jail. Tommy won’t shed a tear over him. Not after what he’s done. 

“So’s my dad,” Felicity says. “That doesn’t mean I’m ready to hand the evidence over to the FBI. No matter how much I hate him for leaving us, he’s still my dad.” 

“The FBI…” he says, getting an idea. 

“Tommy?” 

“You said we can’t go to the SCPD because my dad is too connected. But he’s planning a terrorist attack. That isn’t SCPD, that’s FBI. They won’t care who my dad is. They’ll lock him up.” 

“Tommy, you don’t have to be a part of this,” she tells him. “He’s your dad.” 

“Not anymore. Not after this,” he says firmly. “And if I’m being honest, he hasn’t been my dad in a long time.” 

“Okay,” she says carefully. “But if you do this, you can’t take it back. It’ll be out there.” 

“Felicity,” he says just as carefully, begging her to understand how he’s feeling. She needs to see that he’s serious. “Something snapped in my dad when my mom died. He went away for a year, maybe two. I don’t really remember. And when he came back, he was different. Cold. He hasn’t been my dad in a long time. The man that was? Robert? My dad killed him. He is planning on leveling the Glades. He’ll kill thousands without even blinking. There’s no coming back from that. I’m not going to let more people die pretending that he’s ever going to be my father again.” 

She nods in understanding. “If you’re sure.” 

“I’m sure,” he says without needing to think about it. 

Felicity stands up and goes over to Laurel’s desk and begins digging around. 

“What are you looking for?” he asks. 

“A thumbdrive,” she says, continuing her search. 

Tommy stands up and moves across the room to open the desk drawer and pull one out. He holds it out to her. 

“This isn’t a sex tape of the two of you is it?” she asks with a disgusted look on her face. 

“Don’t pretend you wouldn’t want to see it, Smoak,” he teases her, eager to make light of the situation so that his skin will stop crawling. When she doesn’t respond and instead keeps staring at him, he rolls his eyes. “It’s not a sex tape.” 

Felicity eyes him doubtfully before she takes the drive and plugs it into her tablet. She begins transferring all of the evidence onto the drive. When she is finished, she hands it to him. 

“That’s everything you should need to put him away,” she says. “Do you need me to come with you?” 

Tommy thinks about walking into Starling City’s FBI headquarters with a thumbdrive full of evidence that his father is a mass murderer. Even though he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that it’s the right thing to do, it’s still terrifying. With the way his skin is crawling and his mind keeps drifting to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, he knows that he probably shouldn’t be alone right now. 

He nods. 

“Okay,” she says, agreeing without pushing him for an explanation. And that’s why he loves Felicity so much. She understands him better than anyone else on the planet. 

“Let’s wait to make sure Oliver is okay first,” he says. 

“I can’t lose him, Tommy,” she whispers. 

“I know,” he says. 

Tommy takes her by the hand and leads her into the kitchen, sitting her down at the table as he moves to stand in front of the stove. 

“I was making breakfast before you arrived. Do you want something?” he asks. 

She shakes her head. “If I eat, I’ll throw up,” she says. 

“Have you eaten since Oliver went missing?” he asks, giving her a knowing look and she shakes her head. 

“I’ll make you some toast,” he says, mindful that the omelette he’d been planning on making for himself likely won’t agree with her stomach. 

“I probably shouldn’t be able to eat after everything I’ve just learned,” he says as he pulls the bread out of the cabinet and places two slices in the toaster. “But…” 

“But it helps you,” she says with a sad smile. “I remember.” 

Tommy guesses that she would. She’s the one that took care of him when he first got back from rehab. He nods his head and goes back to preparing his food. 

“You know it’s okay to want it,” she tells him. “Especially with everything that you just found out. It’s natural. You don’t have to be ashamed of the need, it’s only bad if you act on it.” 

He sets the spatula down and looks up at her. 

“Laurel doesn’t know,” he confesses. 

“That you’re an addict? I’m pretty sure she does,” Felicity says, giving him a confused look. 

He shakes his head. He’s pretty sure that showing up on Laurel’s doorstep high as a kite for nearly a year gave away that clue. But that’s not what he’s talking about. 

“She doesn’t know I still struggle,” he says and the knowing look Felicity gives him makes him feel ashamed. He knows that one of the most important pieces of his recovery is being honest with those around him so they can help. “I know, I know.” 

“Then why?” she asks. “I thought you loved her. You don’t trust her with this?” 

“It’s not that,” he says. “It’s just… With her dad and the way she talks about his addiction, I just don’t feel like I can put this on her plate.” 

Felicity stands up to walk over to him. “You need to be with somebody that you can trust. You can’t do this alone.” 

“I’m not alone, I have you,” he says with a smile, hoping she’ll drop it. 

“The woman who shares your bed every night should know the signs. She should be able to look out for you.” 

“Can we table this discussion for a day where you haven’t just told me my dad is basically waging Jihad?” he says bitterly and she steps back from him looking stung. But it only lasts for a second and the fight returns to her. 

“I’ll drop it for now, but I’m not letting this go,” she says. “And I’m not going to let you push me away because it’s easier to hide. You know what your therapist says.” 

Tommy rolls his eyes, regretting being so open to her about his therapy sessions. Too often, Felicity brings it back up and though she’s not wrong, it’s still annoying as hell. The sound of the toaster popping up gives him an easy out. He moves around her to grab a plate from the cabinet and butter from the fridge. He focuses on preparing her toast before handing the plate to her. 

“Eat,” he says. 

She rolls her eyes and takes the plate to the table. Tommy finishes cooking his omelette. They both sit down to eat in silence as Felicity continually stares at her phone, waiting for news on Oliver. 

“A watched pot never boils,” he says. 

“What are you a fortune cookie?” she asks, looking at him in annoyance. 

“He came home to us once, Felicity,” he tells her, reaching out to place his hand over hers. “He’ll do it again.” 

“And if he can’t?” she asks with wet eyes. “If Malcolm killed him?” 

Tommy grimaces as he tries not to picture his father standing over Oliver’s dead body. He can’t focus on that right now. Picturing Oliver dead has his body shivering with need. He has to focus on the things he can control. Like taking care of Felicity. 

“If he doesn’t, then I’ll be here,” he says. “You won’t be alone.” 

She flips her wrist so that she can hold his hand properly. Her grip is firm and he can feel the fear radiating off of her. 

“You have to promise me, Tommy,” she says. “Promise me that you won’t leave, too.” 

He knows what she’s really asking him. She wants him to promise that he won’t fall off the wagon again. Tommy closes his eyes and grounds himself with her touch. 

“I promise,” he tells her. “But it doesn’t matter. Oliver will come back to us. My dad won’t win.” 

She lets go of his hand and claps her own together in a silent prayer. He can see her mouthing the words to an old Hebrew prayer. Tommy wishes that there was more he could do to reassure her, but until Oliver walks through the door, there isn’t anything that will help her feel better. 

A half an hour later, a loud knock has them both running for the door. When Tommy pulls it open, Oliver and Digg are on the other side. 

“Oh thank god!” Felicity exclaims, pushing past him to pull Oliver into a hug. Oliver groans at first, but then visibly relaxes at her touch. Tommy feels his nerves settle as he stares at Oliver and begins to believe that he’s really here. That he didn’t die. 

Diggle pushes on the two of them gently until they are inside the apartment and he’s able to close the door behind them. 

“Merlyn wasn’t there when I arrived, but there’s no telling how long it’ll take him to find out Oliver escaped,” Digg explains. “We have to assume that he already knows.” 

Felicity pulls away from Oliver and Tommy is able to pull Oliver into a tight hug of his own. 

“Thank you,” Oliver whispers. “Digg said you helped them find me.” 

“It’s the least I could do,” he admits as they pull back and Felicity wraps her arms around Oliver’s waist. “I didn’t know about my father, Ollie. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not on you,” Oliver says. “Both of our fathers were involved in this. We have to stop it.” 

“I’m turning everything over to the FBI,” Tommy says. 

Oliver shares a look with Diggle and Felicity before looking back at him, resigned. “Yeah. That’s probably for the best.” 

“You stay here,” Felicity tells Oliver. “Malcolm doesn’t know that Tommy knows anything, so you should be alright to hide out here.” 

Oliver reaches out to grab Felicity’s wrist and he looks reluctant to let go. 

“Why don’t we give you two a moment,” Tommy says after a minute or two of awkward silence. 

Digg agrees and Tommy leads him into the living room. He can faintly hear Oliver and Felicity talking, but he can’t hear about what. 

“He’s really okay?” Tommy asks. 

Digg nods. “A bit bruised up, but fine,” he says. “I don’t think your dad really wanted to hurt him. Just contain him long enough to enact his plan.” 

Tommy shakes his head. So his dad hadn’t wanted to kill Oliver. Fine. 

“That doesn’t change anything for me,” Tommy says. 

“Good. It shouldn’t. Your father is a dangerous man.” 

Felicity steps into the living room followed by Oliver. 

“Let’s go,” she says, looking directly at him. 

“Okay, yeah,” Tommy says, taking a calming breath. This is really happening. 

“Do you want backup?” Digg asks. 

“No,” Felicity says sharply. “Malcolm’s not looking for us. He’s looking for Oliver. Stay here.” 

“Felicity—” Oliver starts to protest, but she cuts him off. 

“No,” she says firmly. “We already discussed this. I’m going with Tommy. We’ll come straight back here when it’s done.” 

Felicity looks at Tommy expectantly before moving towards the door. Oliver stops Tommy before he can follow after her. 

“You take care of her,” Oliver says. Tommy can see the fear in his eyes. Oliver is just as terrified of losing Felicity as she is of losing him. 

“I promise,” he says, putting a comforting hand on Oliver’s shoulder. “My dad isn’t going to lay another finger on another person I love.” 

Oliver nods and with that, Tommy and Felicity are out the door and on their way to the FBI field office. They drive in silence. He doesn’t even bother trying to turn on the radio. He’s too busy trying to figure out what he’s going to tell the FBI when he turns over the evidence. When they pull in to park in front of the big glass building, Tommy sighs. 

“You okay?” Felicity asks. 

“It’s a lot more intimidating than I remember it being,” he says, looking up at the building he used to pass by everyday on his way to school. 

“You don’t have to do this,” she tells him. “I can. It doesn’t have to be you that turns him in.” 

Tommy turns to look at her. “When my dad finds out I turned him in, he’s going to try and kill me, isn’t he?” he asks. 

Felicity hesitates before she answers, “The FBI will put you into protective custody until he’s caught.” 

He lets out a shaky breath. 

“I can do this,” Felicity says, putting a comforting hand on his knee. “Nobody will think less of you if you can’t do this. He’s your dad. We all would understand.” 

Tommy considers her words. He pictures the man who used to perform magic tricks for him. The guy who used to hold him when he woke up from a bad dream and never make him feel bad about being scared. The guy who would take him into work when he was little and let him eat candy even though his mom said he was too young for it. 

Tommy squeezes his eyes shut tight as he tries to find the courage to go through with what he knows he has to do. 

“Even if he’s still in there somewhere, he’s not going to stop this,” he says, trying to remind himself as much as he is trying to convince Felicity. “He will keep killing people until somebody forces him to stop. If there’s any chance of getting my dad back, I need to do this. And if my dad is gone forever? Then I really need to do this.” 

“Okay,” Felicity says with a brave smile. “Then you let me know whenever you’re ready.” 

Tommy nods, taking a deep breath. “You know where the device is, don’t you?” 

“Tommy…” 

“It’s safe?” he asks. He doesn't need to know where it is. He’d prefer not to. But he does need to know if there is any chance his dad will find it. 

“It’s completely safe,” she assures him. 

“Okay. Then I’m going to need another minute,” he says. 

“Whatever you need,” she says. 

The two of them sit in the car for several minutes, staring up at the building. Tommy doesn’t know what goes through Felicity’s head, but he’s thinking about his mom. About how happy his family used to be. He understands his father’s anger at the Glades. Tommy’s spent a lot of his life being angry at what happened to his mom. However, this isn’t what his mother would want. She wouldn’t want to see the Glades leveled in her name. She wouldn’t want to see his dad’s heart turned cold in her death. 

If his mom had survived the shooting, she would have continued working in the Glades. That much, Tommy is sure of. No matter what his dad might say about the cruelty of the world, his mother had always worked to teach him the opposite. That the world is kind and loving, and that people may lose their way, but that doesn’t mean they are any less deserving of compassion. 

The people of the Glades as a whole are innocent. The ones that are criminals, for the vast majority, are only doing it because they’ve fallen on hard times and can see no other way out. The kind of people his dad is trying to kill? The heartless ones who just want to see the world burned by killing others? It’s a very small percentage of the Glades. 

“This isn’t what my mom would want,” he whispers. 

Felicity doesn’t say anything. 

“Let’s go,” he says, opening up the door before he loses his courage. 

Tommy and Felicity step out of the car and walk hand in hand into the building. When they reach the reception desk, Tommy says, “I’d like to report a crime.” 

“Okay,” the receptionist says. “What kind of crime?” 

“Terrorism.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments mean the world to me!


	14. Abandoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity's father leaves her when she's five years old.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place in December of 1990. For a complete timeline look here: [ Home Verse Timeline ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13304013)

Felicity is five years old when her dad leaves them. She wakes up one cold December morning to find all of his things piled by the door. Her entire life changes in an instant. He promises her that he still loves her. He tells her it’s not her fault. He’ll call her. He’ll visit. Felicity knows better. She may only be five, but she’s incredibly smart. She sees the truth in his eyes. Has seen the truth for the last few weeks. He’s been a man caged for too long. He’s planning on running as fast and as far as he can without looking back. 

Her mom tries to tell her that everything is going to be okay, but Felicity doesn’t believe her. How can anything ever be okay again? Her father, the most important person in her world, just left. Who’s going to build a computer with her or teach her how to rewire a circuit? Who is going to help her with her math homework or remind her that it’s more important to be smart than to be pretty? 

Who is going to fill the massive void that has become her heart? 

Everytime she walks past the empty room that used to hold her father’s computer equipment, it feels like an elephant is sitting on her chest and she can’t breathe. Whenever she hears the phone ring, she grows excited, only to have her hopes dashed every time she realizes it’s not him. She can’t look at her mother without thinking of her father and each time, her eyes well up and her lip starts to quiver. 

Felicity feels utterly alone in the world and she doesn’t believe anything will fix it. 

For six straight days, Felicity is a mess. And then they are evicted from their home. They spend a night at a dingy motel eating food from the vending machines with the change they pulled from the floor of the car. Neither of them cry. They are both still too confused for the reality of their situation to have hit them. 

A week ago, they lived in a nice home in a middle-class neighborhood. Now, they have no house, no money in their bank account, and worst of all, no explanation. Not only has her father abandoned them, he’s left them with literally nothing. 

That night, when Felicity is laying in bed with her eyes closed, remembering the last time her father took her to see the elephants, her mom calls a friend up crying. Felicity is sure that her mom must think she’s asleep, and she doesn’t correct her. She wants to hear what’s happening and she knows her mom won’t explain it to her if she asks. Her mom thinks she needs to be a kid. It was her dad that always treated her like an adult. 

Felicity listens in as her mom talks about unpaid bills and credit cards that her dad had taken out in her name. Felicity doesn’t understand a lot of what her mom is saying. Most of the words like fraud go over her head. But she understands what her mom says next. The little piece of heart that still remained in her chest shatters when she hears her mom admit that she doesn’t think she can take care of Felicity on her own. 

Her mom had gotten pregnant during her senior year of high school. As her dad always told her, he’d been her mom’s knight in shining armour. He’d been the fancy businessman who’d taken her away from her awful foster home to his castle and married her. With his help, her mom had become a princess and never had to worry about things like money or work. Their life had been a fairy tale. Her dad had given them everything they ever wanted. 

But the spell is over now and her mom doesn’t have any money to take care of Felicity. Felicity hears her mother say that if she can’t come up with a plan, Felicity is going to get taken away from her. 

Felicity has already lost her dad, she’s not about to lose her mother, too. It’s in that moment that she realizes she doesn’t have the luxury of falling apart. Her mother is doing everything she can to take care of her. The least Felicity can do is pull it together and pretend like it’s enough. She can stop crying and making her mom feel guilty. She can be smaller, quieter, not ask so many questions, not require so much. Felicity can make herself less of a burden. 

So, at five years old, Felicity learns to steel her heart and pretend that there isn’t a giant black hole where her heart used to be. 

Their money runs out for real after two nights in the motel and they are forced to sleep on the couches of her mom’s old school friends — strippers, bouncers, cocktail waitresses, bartenders — whoever is willing to take them in for a night or two while her mom tries to come up with a plan that doesn’t involve begging Grandma and Grandpa Kuttler for help. Felicity does her best to be as quiet as possible. None of the people they stay with are particularly fond of children and she doesn’t want to be the reason they have to find a new place to sleep. 

Her mom does her best. She always makes sure she has breakfast each morning before heading out in search of a job. Opportunities for lunch and dinner are more rare. Her mom isn’t home and she’s scared to go through the pantry of a stranger in case she gets caught stealing. It’s fine. Felicity is young. She doesn't need much to eat. And she’s cute, so she can usually sit out on the front porch of wherever they are staying and some grandmother will eventually invite her in for a snack. She learns to survive. 

It’s not herself that she’s worried about, it’s her mom. She’s so busy trying to take care of Felicity that she doesn’t take care of herself. As she watches her mom grow more tired and stressed, her fear of becoming an orphan grows. 

On New Year’s Eve, two weeks after her father left, her mom locks Felicity in a bedroom with very strict instructions. She’s supposed to sit on the bed listening to the walkman she’s handed. She’s not to take the headphones off under any circumstances, nor is she allowed to open the door for anyone but her mom. Felicity is scared. There’s a pit in her stomach that screams danger, but her mom assures her that everything will be fine soon. Then she leaves. 

Felicity listens to the only song on the tape her mom gave her: Wilson Phillips “Hold On.” She must listen to it over 15 times. She’s finished coloring seven different pictures in her coloring book. She’s bored and growing increasingly more anxious about what her mom is doing and when she’ll be allowed out. Then she hears the music from the living room cut out and the front door close. 

Felicity, being the curious person she is, peeks through the curtains and out the window. A strange man she’s never met stumbles to his car and drives off. She moves to the door and presses her ear against it, listening for something. When she doesn’t hear anything, she unlocks the door and opens it. Against her mother’s wishes, she walks into the living room where she finds her mom crying on the sofa. 

“Momma?” she says, her stomach in knots so tight that she feels like she might be sick. 

Her mom looks up and her mascara is down her cheeks and one of her eyelashes has come loose. At the sight of her, her mom paints a wide smile on her face and opens her arms for her. 

“Come here, Baby,” she says. 

Felicity crawls into her lap and wraps her arms around her neck tight. If she holds on tight enough, maybe she can stop her mom from slipping away from her as well. 

“It’s okay,” her mom says, rubbing soothing circles into her back, but Felicity doesn’t feel like it’s okay. Something bad happened and she doesn’t understand what. 

Her mom forces her to sit back and look at her, even though Felicity just wants to bury her face in her mom’s neck and cry. 

“It’s going to be okay now,” she says, wiping the tears from Felicity’s face. “You don’t have to worry anymore.” 

“What’s happening?” Felicity asks. 

“I got us enough money,” she says with a tight smile. “I have enough for plane tickets and a security deposit. We are going to leave this city and the bad memories behind us and never look back.” 

And for the next eight years, that’s exactly what they do. 


	15. Homesick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity tells Oliver about her no good, god awful day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place in December of 1999, a few days before the events of Stargazing (which should help you understand Oliver's state of mind a bit better).   
> For a complete timeline, see [ Home Verse: A Timeline ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13304013)

When the phone rings at seven fifty that night, Felicity debates not answering it. She knows exactly who is on the other line and she’s not sure that she’s ready to hear his voice. Hearing his voice will remind her of home and she’s not sure she’ll be able to hold it together. Still, if she doesn’t answer it, her grandma will and she loves Oliver too much to subject him to that. 

Felicity reaches over and picks up the phone. 

“Hello?” she says, trying her best to sound upbeat. 

“Hey you!” Oliver says and she can hear the smile in his voice. Though she knows it’s not rational, she’s annoyed that he can sound so happy. She’s more miserable than she’s been in a long time, and he’s completely oblivious. 

It’s not fair. She knows it’s not fair. She doesn’t want him to be wallowing in her absence everyday. She wants him to be happy. She does. It’s just… Today it’s especially hard to hear him sound like he’s perfectly fine when she feels like her entire world is falling apart. 

“So, Thea is refusing to go to bed until I let her say hello to you,” he says. 

Before Felicity has a chance to respond, Thea comes on the line. “Felicity!” 

“Hey Speedy,” she says as her hands start to shake with the effort of holding back her tears. 

On any given day, she misses her old life in Starling. On a day like today, it feels like she’s missing a limb. She may have been born in Vegas, but Starling is where she found a home. She hates it here. She literally hates it. If she has to continue living here another day, she might lose her mind. 

“When are you coming to play with me?” Thea asks. 

Felicity sighs as she bites her lip against the tears. Plane tickets are expensive. As much as she’s dying to fly back home for a visit, she’d rather her mom save her money up so that they can move back permanently. She needs to think long term. Because when she finally leaves this place, there is not a force on this planet strong enough to force her to come back again. 

“I’m not sure when I’ll be able to visit,” Felicity says, willing her voice to sound chipper and upbeat. She’s not going to cry to a four year old. 

“Ollie is taking me to the zoo on Saturday,” she says. “You can come!” 

It sounds lovely. Spending the day with Oliver and Thea would be exactly what she needs right now. She needs to be with people that love and appreciate her so that she can remember not everyone thinks she’s cursed. The kids at school treat her like she has the Black Plague most days. The best days really. Because when they aren’t ignoring her and refusing to go anywhere near her, she ends up with days like today… 

“I’m sorry,” she says, truly meaning it. “You’re too far away.”

“Okay.” Thea’s voice sounds so defeated and it shatters her heart. 

Felicity hates this. It shouldn’t be this hard. She’s been gone for a year. This ache is supposed to have eased by now. Everyone keeps telling her it will get easier, but it hasn’t. She’s not sure it ever will. 

She wants to start crying. To scream from the rooftops how unfair the world is. However, Thea is four and Felicity knows that she needs to be the mature one. 

“You’re going to have so much fun with Oliver, you won’t even have time to miss me,” she says through gritted teeth. “Make sure you see the elephants for me.” 

“I’ll ask,” Thea says before she hears her asking Oliver if they will get to see them on Saturday. 

“Of course,” Oliver says. “Now tell Felicity goodnight and get in bed before Raisa catches you.” 

“Ollie says we’ll see the elephants!” Thea exclaims excitedly. 

“That’s great,” she says. “They’re my favorite.” 

Felicity smiles sadly. They don’t have elephants in Vegas anymore. They used to have them at the old casino where her dad worked as an IT specialist, but they got taken away. It’s not fair. Starling has everything. 

“I’ll take a picture for you,” Thea promises. 

Felicity can hear Oliver in the background telling Thea it’s time for bed and it sounds like the two of them end up wrestling over the phone. After a moment or two, Thea comes back on the line. 

“I have to go to bed now,” she says sadly. “Good night, Felicity.” 

“Night, Speedy,” she says. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

She hears Oliver saying goodnight to Thea as well before he comes back on the line. 

“Sorry about that, you know how she is,” Oliver says. 

“It’s alright,” she says, wiping a tear from her eyes. “I miss her.” 

“She misses you,” he says. “I don’t think she quite understands how far Vegas is. She’s always asking why you don’t come over to play anymore.” 

“Yeah,” she squeaks as she starts to cry. 

“Felicity?” he says her name and the question is obvious. He wants to know what’s wrong. 

She shakes her head, even though he can’t see her. 

“Felicity,” he says again, a warning. 

Oliver is physically incapable of letting this go. His damn knight in shining armor complex will have him continuing to pester her until she tells him what’s wrong. If she refuses, there’s a 99% chance he’ll do something stupid. Like sneak out of his house and charter a private jet or something equally ridiculous for a fourteen year old boy regardless of how rich he is. 

Still, she’s not quite ready to talk about what happened today. Not yet. The wound is still fresh. If she can’t tell the story calmly, Oliver’s bound to get angry. Last time she told him that the kids at school were bullying her, he threatened to hire a hitman. 

“Can we watch Buffy first?” she asks, turning on her TV. 

Their show hasn’t started yet. They are still playing a rerun of the Simpsons but it’s supposed to start in another minute and Felicity needs it. She needs the routine of watching it with him like they’ve done since season one. She needs to lay back in bed and pretend that it’s Saturday and she’s in his bedroom watching the episode he’d taped for her beacuse they’d never been able to afford a TV. 

God, if ever there was a poster child for the fact that money can’t buy happiness, it’d be Felicity. Her grandparents are loaded. They aren’t the Queens by any stretch of the imagination, but they still have more money than they need. Felicity wants for nothing — at least materialistically. Yet she’d been far happier when her mother and her had been living in the Glades in a beat up old apartment with barely enough money to put food on the table. 

At least in Starling, she had a friend. 

Felicity can hear Oliver’s deep sigh. She knows that he wants to press the issue. He’s too much of a protector to sit back and ignore the fact that she’s crying. However, he also has a difficult time denying her anything she asks for. And she needs this.  

“Felicity,” he says in a final protest. 

“Please—” she starts to beg him not to, but she can’t get out more than that word. Not through her tears. 

“Fine,” he says. “But after, you are telling me exactly what is wrong.” 

“Promise,” she says as the credits roll on The Simpsons and the screen switches to an advertisement for the WB. 

They watch the opening scene in silence as Felicity tries to slow her breathing and just focus on the show. She lays back in bed and pretends that Oliver is laying right beside her with a bowl of popcorn, just like he used to. The tears continue to fall, but she is able to stop herself from sobbing outright. When the opening credits start to roll and the familiar theme song begins to play, Felicity closes her eyes and takes comfort in the familiarity of it. 

“You know, this season kind of sucks,” he says. 

She recognizes it as the olive branch it is. He may not like that she hasn’t told him what’s wrong, but he’ll give her their usual banter if that’s what she needs. 

Felicity laughs, despite herself and wipes the tears from her eyes. 

“You’re only saying that because Charisma Carpenter left,” she says. Oliver’s crush on Cordelia Chase is the main reason she got him to agree to start watching this show with her. 

“Well Angel is a much better show,” he says. “I don’t blame her.” 

“You would say that. You’re a man,” she says, reaching for the box of tissues on her nightstand and blowing her nose. 

He pauses for a minute and she’s positive that he’s about to ask her to tell him what’s wrong, but thankfully he doesn’t. 

“That’s not fair,” he argues. “You’re know how much I value a strong female lead. Girls should be allowed to be smart and kick ass.” 

While she knows he agrees with that, because he’s always defended her whenever anyone dares to call her a nerd, he doesn’t get to play that card. He may like a strong female, but he’s still a typical male. The girls he ends up crushing on are always the supermodel types. 

“Your favorite character is Cordelia,” she says with a roll of her eyes. 

“Hey, she’s smarter than people give her credit for,” he says as the opening credits fade and move into a commercial.

“Yes, her brain, that’s what you’re attracted to,” she teases. “Not the fact that she’s tall, leggy, and brunette.” 

“So I like brunettes,” he says. “Is that so wrong?” 

Felicity pulls a curl in front of her face and stares at her brown hair, knowing that’s not quite true. Oliver isn’t attracted to all brunettes, just the ones that look like McKenna Hall. 

“You can’t give me a hard time,” he argues. “You have the world’s biggest crush on Angel.” 

Felicity blushes as she looks over at a poster she has on the back of her door of Buffy and Angel. Angel is hugging Buffy from behind. Her eyes then drift to her nightstand where there’s a framed picture of Oliver and her in a very similar position. She quickly shakes her head before any fantasies can start playing in her brain and focuses back on their conversation. 

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” she asks. “Angel is amazing. He’s got this dark and tortured past and really has every reason to be the villain of the story, but he’s not. He fights for good and is working towards redemption by helping the hopeless. All the while, he doesn’t diminish the strong women he has around him like every other typical white male lead.” 

Oliver laughs and the sound of it warms her heart and has her pulling her pillow close, wishing she could feel the heat of his arms around her. He always had a talent for making everything better with a single hug. 

“Well your boyfriend is broody as hell,” Oliver counters, causing her to snort. “What?” 

“Oliver, you’re literally the most broody person I know,” she says while laughing. 

Oliver grumbles under his breath, but since the show comes back on at that moment, he doesn’t have time for a counter argument. 

The two of them spend the next two hours watching Buffy and Angel, trading off between watching the shows in silence and teasing each other during commercial breaks. When the credits finally roll on Angel, Felicity is feeling much more like herself again. While she isn’t necessarily ready to face the world again tomorrow, the ground beneath her is more solid. It no longer feels like quicksand, eager to swallow her whole. 

“Damn,” Felicity says as she turns off the TV and flips off her bedroom light so that her grandparents will think she’s gone to sleep. “Looks like you’re going to get your wish. Cordelia’s going to get her character growth now that she has Doyle’s visions.” 

“Felicity,” Oliver says sternly. 

“What?” she asks. 

“I don’t want to talk about the show anymore, I want you to tell me why you were crying when I first called,” he says. 

Felicity sighs as she flops back into bed. She’s still not eager to talk to him about this. While she knows that he’ll be sympathetic, it’s not like he can understand. Everyone loves Oliver. He’s never had to deal with bullies in his life. After all, nobody ever goes after the athletic, handsome, popular kid. 

“Please,” he says softly and she can’t deny him anything when she sounds like that. 

“It was just a very long, terrible day,” she tells him. “It’s better now that I’ve gotten to talk to you.” 

And that’s the truth. Oliver’s voice, while not as healing as his hugs, has a soothing quality. It always calms her down and makes her feel cared for. 

“Why was it terrible?” he asks. 

Felicity thinks back on her day and has to close her eyes as they start to water. 

“Well it started when my grandma gave me a Hanukkah card from my dad this morning,” she says. “A full week late, by the way. And it’s not like I can claim Christian ignorance either, because he’s Jewish. And it was this lame generic card too that I’m sure my grandma forced him to sign. It was literally a store bought card and the only thing he wrote was ‘Dad.’ Like he even gets to call himself my father anymore when he hasn’t seen me in years.” 

“He’s an asshole,” Oliver says. “I don’t understand how he ever could have left you guys in the first place, let alone how he’s stayed away so long. You’ve been away from me for nearly a year and everyday I’m tempted to hop on a plane and drag you back here.” 

“I would do anything to live in Starling again,” she says, longingly. “Even if it meant my mom and I had to live on the streets.” 

“I would never let you live on the streets,” he says. “You know that I’d buy you both an apartment here if you’d let me.” 

“On days like today, I’m tempted to say yes.” 

Felicity has never taken so much as a penny from Oliver before. Though everyone calls her a gold digger, she has far too much pride in herself to become a kept woman. However, on days like today, things like pride seem rather foolish. She knows that all she’d ever have to do is ask and Oliver would buy her a plane ticket home. He’s offered so many times before and she’s said no. However, one day soon, she’s going to cave and let him take care of her. Even if it means every negative thing that the elite of Starling has ever said about her will become true. 

“What else happened? I know this isn’t just about your dad,” he says. “Felicity…” he adds in warning when she doesn’t respond right away.

She sighs deeply as she pulls her covers over her head. Not that Oliver or anyone really can see her, but it feels safer whenever she’s hiding. That’s why she’d eaten her lunch in the closet of the AV room at school today. 

“The kids at school decided to stop ignoring me,” she says quietly. She doesn’t want her grandparents to overhear her, nor her mother, who should be getting off her shift soon. 

“What did they do?” he asks, his voice deep and gravely. It’s a new thing. His voice had still been changing last year. 

She thinks back to the soda that had been dumped into her backpack, ruining all of her books and papers. She pictures Grace Hughes face when she’d been calling Felicity all of those names while a large group of her classmates just stood by and laughed. She thinks of how the dean had just told her to keep a better eye on her stuff and grow some thicker skin. 

She feels her blood start to boil in rage as her eyes water again. 

“It doesn’t matter what they did,” she says. “It just matters that they did it. They hate me.” 

She can hear Oliver suck in a large breathe before he says, “Felicity…” 

But she doesn’t want to hear any pity from him. She doesn’t want him to see her like that. Like this sad, poor thing that has to be taken care of. She’s in love with Oliver, and not that he’ll ever love her back, but she’d still like to believe that she at least doesn’t have to get pitied by the boy she has a crush on. Her self esteem is low enough as it is. 

“No,” she says, cutting off whatever words of encouragement or advice he’s about to give her. He doesn’t understand how things work for people like her. She can’t just put a smile on her face and make some other friends. A positive attitude isn’t going to fix this. She’d followed the advice he’d given her a few weeks ago. She’d joined some clubs. It didn’t help. All it did was put her on more people’s radars as a target to torment. 

“Everyone hates me,” she says. 

“Well, I don’t hate you,” he says with a sigh. “I don’t understand how anyone could.” 

She rolls her eyes. He wouldn’t. 

“I’m smarter than them,” she explains. 

“Who cares. You’re smarter than me and I don’t hate you,” Oliver says and she smiles sadly. If only the rest of the world could be like him. 

“Well you’re Oliver Queen,” she says. “There’s very little that could make somebody like you feel threatened. But most normal kids don’t have it all. The kids I go to school with have one thing going for them. They are all incredibly smart. And I’m smarter. So if they are no longer the smartest kid in the room, where does that leave them?” 

“That doesn’t make any sense though, because they can’t all be the smartest kid at school. So why are they targeting you?” he asks. 

“Oliver, can we just let this go? It doesn’t matter why. It just matters that they are. The boys all hate that I’m a girl in STEM and I’m better than all of them,” she says. “The girls are teenage girls. They’re bitchy by nature and I’m an easy target.” 

“I hate this,” he grumbles. “When you went to school here, I could just threaten to beat up anyone that gave you a hard time.” 

“Or that kissed me, apparently,” she mutters under her breath. Because, no, she still hasn’t forgotten that awful night. 

“Alex had no business shoving his tongue down your mouth,” he says angrly. “Do you have any idea the places that tongue has probably been? I likely stopped you from getting an STD. You’re welcome.” 

“I’m not even going to respond to that,” she says. 

The two of them fall into comfortable silence for several moments. She yawns and settles back into her bed more. The stress of the day is finally starting to hit her and she’s exhausted. 

“Felicity?” Oliver asks. 

“Yeah?” 

“I know it doesn’t mean much right now, but keep your head up,” he says. 

She scoffs. He sounds like her dean. 

“No, really,” he says sincerely. “In a few years you’re going to graduate and change the world. And the people you go to school with won’t mean anything at that point. Just keep pushing through. And when things get too tough, try and remember that there is one person in the world who thinks you are the most amazing person on the face of the Earth.” 

“My mom?” she teases, blushing like she always does whenever he talks about her like this. He just makes it so damn easy to love him sometimes. 

“Okay,” he says with a laugh. “Try to remember that there are  _ two _ people in the world who think you are the most amazing person on the face of the Earth.” 

“Thanks, Oliver,” she says, smiling. 

“Anytime.” 

“Felicity! Are you on the phone?!” her grandpa calls out, knocking loudly on the door causing her to jump. 

“Fuck,” she grumbles under her breath. 

“Tell that hoodlum that it’s a school night!” he yells. 

“Hoodlum, that’s a new one,” Oliver says causing her to giggle which only causes her grandpa to knock louder. 

“Felicity!” he yells. 

“Okay!” she calls back. “I’m going to bed in a minute!” 

“Say the word and you’ve got an apartment in Starling,” Oliver says. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbles with a roll of her eyes. “I’d better hang up before they take away my phone line.” 

“I love you! Sleep tight! Don’t let those assholes make you feel anything less than amazing!” Oliver says quickly. 

“Thank you. Love you, too,” she says before hanging up the phone and going to open the door to talk to her grandpa. 

“I’m going to bed,” she snaps at him. “You can stop standing there like a prison guard.” 

“It’s a school night,” he says in warning. “If you’re not careful, you’re going to wind up just like your mother.” 

Felicity scoffs. “I’d rather end up like my mother than be anything like my deadbeat dad.” 

Her grandpa takes a deep breath, shaking his head slowly. She can tell he wants to retaliate and she hopes he does. She’s itching for a fight. But he just mutters something that sounds suspiciously like ‘teenagers’ and walks back into his bedroom. 

Four years. 

She has four years of high school — three if she works hard — and then she can graduate and move far away from this place. 


	16. Rock Bottom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity thinks that Tommy's finally hit rock bottom, unfortunately, he still has further to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will discuss drug addition, overdoses, and suicide attempts. If any of those things aren't for you, you should probably skip this one-shot. 
> 
> This story takes place in July of 2011. For a full timeline, check out [ Home Verse Chronology ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13304013)

Felicity stares at the TV as the credits finish rolling and the screen goes blue. The disk is over, which means she’s officially just finished watching sixteen straight episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It’s probably cause for concern. She hasn't even left her bed for meals. Instead, she’s just been munching all day on a bag of Fruit Loops. She has zero motivation to get up and do anything with what little remains of her Saturday. 

She’s surprised that Tommy hasn’t come in to lecture her yet. She knows that he’s aware that her day has consisted of nothing more than binge watching. She’s had the volume up loud enough for him to have heard. And yet, he hasn’t checked in with her. Usually, he gets worried and overly anxious whenever she stays in bed all day. That gets multiplied whenever she does so watching Buffy. 

Tommy doesn’t think it’s healthy for her to watch a television show that reminds her so much of Oliver. She’s never been able to get him to understand that it’s not a bad thing. She’s allowed to remember Oliver. She’s allowed to wallow every once in awhile. Oliver was a large part of her life for a long time and it’s important for her to remember him. Sometimes she just needs to feel his presence, even if it makes her sad. 

Weeks like this one, it’s essential. 

Last Saturday, at her birthday party, Tommy got into a car accident. He’d been high, yet again, and totalled his car. Luckily, Tommy wasn’t seriously injured. Nor had he injured anyone else. Still, it’s been a rough week for her. She’d been positive when the hospital called to tell her about the accident that she’d lost him, too. Between her father, Cooper, and Oliver, Felicity has grown accustomed to loss. She expects it. 

With Tommy, she’d known it was only a matter of time. She’s been watching him spiral for over a year and a half unable to do anything to help. Ever since Hong Kong, his addiction has been getting worse. She’s begged him to stop. She’s tried to force him into rehab, but all the websites say that this isn’t something she can fix for him. He has to want to get help. And he hasn’t. So she’s sat by anxiously, waiting for the day that fateful phone call would come. 

And last week it had. On her birthday of all days. 

Tommy promised her when she picked him up from the hospital that he’ll quit and this time she thinks he might actually mean it. He hasn’t gone out at all this week and he’s made a genuine effort towards recovery. He even started reading one of the books she bought months ago on treating addiction. Everyone kept saying that he’d hit rock bottom eventually and it looks like he finally had. The car accident had been the wakeup call he’d needed to get clean and for that, she’s happy. 

She might expect loss, but that doesn’t mean she welcomes it. Losing Tommy is her greatest fear. Which is why, despite his efforts to get clean, she’s had a pretty rough week. She’s been waking up with nightmares of the car accident all week. Even as she watches him make better choices, she can’t shake the fear that he’s continuing to slip away from her. She’s not sleeping and it’s left her feeling drained. Both physically and emotionally. Which is why she’s been more than happy to curl up in bed with Buffy all day and pretend that Oliver is still here. 

If Oliver were here, he would know how to help Tommy. If Oliver were here, he’d help her let go of her fear of losing Tommy and instead be able to enjoy the fact that he’s getting clean. He was always better at taking care of people than she was.

She stands up and puts another disc in, intent on continuing to watch. As the music plays leading her into the DVD’s main menu, she closes her eyes and tries to remember the nights Oliver and her would spend back in middle school, cuddled up on his bed, watching the show together. The more time passes since the Gambit, the harder it is for her to remember how his arms felt around her. However, it just makes her more determined to try. 

She’s about to press play on the first episode when her stomach growls, loudly. She glances over at the empty bag of Fruit Loops on her nightstand. It’s officially time to leave her bedroom. If for no other reason than to find something to eat. 

Felicity throws her hair in a messy bun and walks out the door into the living room. She’s surprised to see that it’s dark. Normally, Tommy prefers to hang out in the main room when he’s home. But he’s not on the sofa watching TV or in the kitchen stress baking. 

“Tommy?” she calls out, glancing down the hallway to see the light peeking out from under his door, signalling that he’s still home. He’s meticulous about turning off all of the lights when he leaves a room. A habit left over from his time growing up in the strict Merlyn home. 

“Hey, Tommy?” she calls out again. 

Perhaps she can convince him to cook her something to eat. One of his famous breakfast sandwiches sound heavenly and she knows they have all the ingredients because she went to the store yesterday. They’d made a deal long ago that he would always do the cooking and she could contribute by doing the grocery shopping. It was safer for everyone that way. 

If he’s not up for cooking, then maybe he’ll go in on some takeout with her. It’s been awhile since they ordered Chinese… 

She knocks on his door, but gets no response. She doesn’t hear any music coming from inside the room so she assumes he must have fallen asleep. She quietly opens the door, planning on making sure he’s tucked in for the night and turning the light off. 

She’s surprised when she doesn’t see him in the bedroom, however. 

“Tommy?” she calls out, louder this time. The shower isn’t running, so she’s confused why he didn’t answer when she knocked. 

She glances towards the bathroom and sees his feet sticking out from the open door. Her blood instantly boils in rage. He’s passed out. Again. After he promised that he was going to quit. She should have known better than to trust an addict. 

She marches over to the bathroom with plans on dumping cold water over his stupid head and lecturing him on taking care of himself, but what she sees causes her heart to stop beating. 

Tommy is covered in vomit and an empty pill bottle is laying next to him. Which, sadly, wouldn’t be anything new. She’s seen him in this state enough times for the shock to wear off and just leave her with pure annoyance. If that was all it was, she wouldn’t feel her hands start to shake. 

No. 

What has her so terrified that she can’t seem to breathe is the fact that his lips have turned blue and his skin is unnaturally pale. 

“Tommy!” she yells, falling to the floor with a loud bang. She’s sure there will be bruises later, but that’s the least of her concerns. Her hands go to his neck as she searches for a pulse. Her hands are shaking so badly that she can’t tell if he has one or not. 

Her vision starts to blur as she shakes her head. “No, no, no,” she cries out. “Please don’t do this to me. Wake up. Please!” 

When he doesn’t respond, she tries to shake him. The hand that had been on his stomach falls to the floor with a thump. The sound of it echoes around in her head like nails pounding into a coffin. 

She’s about to lose him. 

Oh god. 

This is it. The moment she’d been dreading for over a year. 

She screams at herself to do something, but her body won’t move. Her eyes are glued to his, willing his eyelids to open. Praying that he’ll wake up and tell her to stop being so dramatic. But he doesn’t. He’s as frozen as she is. 

She really should move. She needs to call 911. She needs to get him to the hospital. 

“Get up, Smoak,” she tells herself, since he’s not awake to tell her himself. “Pull it together.” 

God. How many times has he said those words to her when she’s been so deep into her head that she can’t function? What if he never says those words to her again? This can’t be it. She can’t lose him. 

She manages to pull herself together enough to stand back up and go into his bedroom in search of his phone. Thankfully, she finds it easily, sitting on his nightstand charging. She rushes over to it and it takes her a few tries to pick it up. She keeps dropping it because her hands are trembling so badly. Eventually, she manages to dial 911. 

“911, where is your emergency?” the dispatcher says. It’s a man. For some reason that pisses Felicity off because it’s too easy to hear Tommy in his voice and that makes it more difficult to focus. 

“Hello? 911, where is your emergency?” the dispatcher repeats. 

“Hello?” she says with a shaky voice. “I need help.” 

It registers with her too late that she didn’t answer the question. 

“Where are you?” he asks. 

Felicity takes several deep breaths before she’s able to recite her address for him. 

“And what is the emergency?” he asks. 

“My friend… You have to help him… Please… He’s all I have left,” she cries, rushing back into the bathroom, but this time she doesn’t fall to his side. She stands over him, afraid to get too close in case she somehow does something wrong. 

“What happened to your friend?” he asks. 

“He took something,” she says, before realizing that she doesn’t actually know that for a fact. All she has is circumstantial evidence. That’s what the police call it right? Although, with Tommy 2 + 2 will always equal 4. Still, she needs to be clear. His life is on the line and she can’t mislead the EMTs coming to help him. “I mean, I think he took something.”

Why? Why is this the thought that’s coming to her head? She seriously hates how her mind works sometimes. Tommy is dying. What does it really matter what she tells 911 so long as they send help? 

“There’s an empty pill bottle and vomit and… he’s an addict,” she says. “He told me he was quitting, but… well he’s passed out and his lips are blue. I don’t think he’s breathing. You have to help him.” 

“Somebody is already on their way, ma’am,” he says. “Are you feeling alright?” 

“Me? I’m not worried about me,” she says, angry that he’d take the time to ask when Tommy is dying right before her eyes. 

“It’s a standard question. Until we know for certain what caused your friend to pass out, we have to make sure that it isn’t something in the home,” he explains carefully. 

“I’m fine, I just… I can’t lose him,” she says. 

Staring down at Tommy, it isn’t getting any easier to breathe. In fact, she can feel her airway closing. It’s the first sign that she’s having a full blown panic attack. She hasn’t had one in years, but if any situation would warrant them coming back, it’s this. 

“Oh god,” she wheezes, falling back against the wall and sliding down until she is sitting on the floor. Her eyes don’t leave Tommy, even as they swim with tears. 

“Ma’am, are you alright?” he asks, concerned. 

“Panic… Attack… Fine… Help…” she tries to say as her breathing increases and her heart beats so loudly she can feel the pounding in her ears. It won’t be long before she disassociates herself and becomes utterly useless to the dispatcher. Useless to Tommy. 

She has to pull herself together, but she can’t. Her body won’t cooperate. All she can do is sit here and stare as she watches her best friend die. 

“I need you to try and take several deep breaths for me,” he says. “Help is coming soon.” 

Felicity places the phone on speaker before dropping it to the tile. She then brings her knees in close and drops her face in between them, a trick she learned back when she used to do therapy. Still, her eyes watch Tommy over the tops of her knees. She refuses to look away. She feels like he’s going to disappear the moment she looks away. It isn’t fair. This isn’t fair. They promised each other to always be there for one another and he’s breaking that promise. 

This stupid asshole is leaving her and she’s livid. Were the drugs really more important that staying with her?

She remembers him saying something at the hospital as they left last week. Something about wanting to see Oliver again. She hadn’t thought much of it at the time. She’s not sure why it comes to her now, but it does. The thought pops up in her brain and she can’t make it go away. 

What if he did this on purpose? 

“No!” she yells, shaking her head in rage. He doesn’t get to do this. He doesn’t get to just give up fighting. Not when he never let her. She pulls herself to her knees, ignoring the muscles that are aching from both lack of oxygen and holding them so tensely. She crawls over to him and kneels beside him. 

“You don’t get to do this,” she says the same words he told her that night all those years ago. And that’s when something clicks in her brain. The logical side of her comes back and she’s able to hear her thoughts much more clearly. Instantly, she remembers the first aid class she’d taken as a gen ed in college. She remembers the instructions her professor had given them on administering CPR. 

Felicity places the heel of her hand on his breastbone and places her other hand on top of it, lacing her fingers together. She leans over him until her shoulders are above her hands and then uses her body weight to press down. Her professor had told her that they would need to give 100-120 compressions a minute. She could count, but she doesn’t trust anything that isn’t precise. So she does something that she knows Tommy will find annoying. Something that a website she’d read when studying for that First Aid class had suggested: She starts singing MMMBop. 

“You don’t get Sweet Home Alabama,” she mumbles to him before continuing to whisper the words to the old Hanson song that she really only knows the lyrics to because of Oliver. The song keeps her compressions consistent, which she knows is important. 

“Ma’am?” the dispatcher calls out to her, and it sounds like he’s been trying to get her attention for awhile. 

“I’m still here,” she says. “I’m doing CPR.”

“Somebody should be there in a minute. Is the door unlocked?” he asks. 

Felicity shakes her head. They are diligent about keeping the doors locked at all times. They live in Starling City after all, and there are far too many stories each night of home invasions. 

“There’s a doorman, he’ll let them in,” she says. 

“Okay, keep doing what you’re doing,” the dispatcher says. “I’m going to stay on the line with you until the EMTs show up.” 

She nods, even though he can’t see her and continues to sing quietly. 

Tommy hates Hanson. He hates most pop music. Felicity thinks it serves him right. He should wake up to the sound of her horrible voice singing a song he despises. He doesn’t get to scare her like this, it’s not funny. 

She chooses to focus on all the ways she’s going to yell at him when he wakes up. It’s easier to stay focused that way. If she thinks about the fact that he might never wake up… That he could already be dead… Well, she won’t be able to function and Tommy needs her functioning at her best right now. 

****

Felicity sits in the uncomfortable hospital seat, curled up in herself. She’s got her head buried in her knees as she sobs and tries not to think about the fact that her boss is sitting right across from her witnessing her entire meltdown. She can’t really be bothered with what Malcolm Merlyn thinks of her at the moment. Not when the doctor hasn’t been able to give them any information about Tommy’s condition.

Felicity watched them treat Tommy when they first came in. She knows there was a team preparing to pump his stomach while another doctor worked on getting his heart beating. She’s never going to be able to unsee Tommy’s limp body lifting off the table as he was shocked with paddles. It was the single most horrifying thing she’s ever witnessed. His heart had started again after a second round of shocks, but that’s all she knows. A nurse had come by to usher her out of the way, informing her that she would have to wait in the waiting room for news. 

They’ll have pumped his stomach by now, but Felicity knows that’s not the only concern at play. Pumping his stomach will get rid of any drugs still in his stomach, but there’s not much they can do about the drugs that were already absorbed into his bloodstream. Beyond that, there’s no telling how long he was laying on the bathroom floor unresponsive. They may have gotten his heart beating again, but she’s not naive. It’s entirely possible to continue living without really being alive. If his brain went too long without oxygen, Tommy might already be gone and no amount of Merlyn money will be able to bring him back. 

Felicity wonders idly if there’s ever been a problem Malcolm hasn’t been able to fix with money, before feeling like a terrible person for even having that thought. The man lost his wife and may be about to lose his only child. She understands loss. She too lost her soulmate when Oliver’s ship went down. She might not know the loss of a child, but she knows the loss of a parent. Felicity shouldn’t be so hard on Malcolm. Grief makes everyone into the worst version of themselves. 

She reminds herself of this as she listens to him continue to grumble about the situation to Moira. 

Which is another thing Felicity is actively trying not to think too long about. Moira Queen, the woman who hates her with a fiery passion, is also watching her fall apart. If Felicity weren’t filled with such genuine terror for Tommy, her pride would force her to hold it together. She’d promised herself long ago that she would do whatever it took not to be weak in front of that woman, but she never imagined a situation in which she had to be strong without Tommy by her side. 

She takes a shuddering breath as her mind circles back the fact that Tommy is very likely already gone. Her chest burns with the pain of it. It feels like her heart has been torn out of her body. When Oliver had first been reported missing, Felicity had felt like this. However, Tommy had been there to cry to and Oliver had only been reported missing. This is different. In this case, she has nobody. She’s utterly alone, and if the doctors say that Tommy’s braindead, she can’t trick herself into believing he’ll somehow come back to her like she can with Oliver. This will be real. This loss will be permanent. 

She won’t recover from this one. 

Fuck, she’s so livid. He’d willingly thrown his life away for a fix. Whether he knowingly tried to overdose or not, he still threw his life away for a fucking fix. She can’t forgive him for that. She knows pain. She feels pain everyday of her life. So she understands what he’s going through, but she fought to get healthy. She fights everyday to stay healthy, mostly because he’s depending on her to. Why couldn’t he do the same for her? Why doesn’t Tommy try and fight? Doesn’t he understand that she can’t do any of this without him? 

“This is unbelievable,” Malcolm whispers harshly, not wanting to be overheard. They are, after all, still waiting in a public waiting area. 

“Malcolm, take a deep breath,” Moira says. 

Felicity fumes on the inside and reminds herself that he’s just speaking out of grief, but it’s hard. People show grief in weird ways, but it doesn’t even sound like Malcolm is grieving. It sounds like he’s inconvenienced. Like Tommy’s overdose and potential death might have messed up his poker night. It’s infuriating. 

“How could he be this stupid,” Malcolm grumbles. “You know this is going to be all over the papers in the morning.” 

“Who cares?” Felicity asks loudly, standing up. Her hands are curled into fists, she’s so enraged. “Your son could be dead! Do you really care what the papers are going to write about it?” 

She storms off before she can even hear their response. She doesn’t want to hear his excuses. She just wants a place where she can think. Where she can focus on her breathing and try to center herself before she goes off the deep end. 

She can’t lose herself. Not until she knows for sure that Tommy is gone. Until then, she needs to keep it together for his sake. 

Felicity steps outside. She’s looking for fresh air. The muggy, July heat doesn’t give her that, but it at least gives her space away from Malcolm and Moira’s constant grumbling. She steps out of the way of some incoming patients and looks around for some place that she can just sit for awhile. She walks over to a brick pillar that seems enough out of the way and leans against it, staring up at the night sky. 

It’s an odd night, one of the few where the stars are actually somewhat visible through the usual city smog. She stares up at the north star and feels an intense longing. 

“I know you’re not out there,” she whispers. “I know it stupid to still hope that you somehow survived. Hong Kong taught me as much… But Oliver, please, if you are out there… Come home.” 

Her eyes fill with tears as she takes a shaky breath. She crosses her arms and tries to hold herself together. It feels like any minute, she’s going to crumble. She used to say she was disintegrating. With each day that Oliver was gone, she was eroding away. 

Things were bad after the Gambit went down for her. She was positive she would be nothing but a pile of ash after he left. But things got better. The pieces of her that she lost never came back, but the process of disappearing slowed until it eventually stopped altogether. Tommy helped her find something to hold onto. 

It has been killing her, that after Hong Kong, she hasn’t been able to do the same for him. She’s done everything she can think of. She’s read every book on addition. She’s talked to numerous therapists. Nothing has helped. She keeps coming back to the same realization: You can’t help somebody who doesn’t want to be helped. 

It isn’t fair. Tommy deserves somebody who can be his lifeline. She hasn’t been able to give him that. She’s a genius. People are always coming to her with their problems and she’s always able to fix them. Always. And yet, she hasn’t been smart enough to figure out a way to fix this. 

And now, she might lose him because of it. 

“I need you to tell me how to make this better,” she whispers to the stars, but the request falls on deaf ears. It’s pointless. Oliver is gone and soon, Tommy will be too. 

****

“I need you to go to rehab,” she tells Tommy. 

It’s been four days since his overdose. His vitals are finally starting to stabilize and by some miracle, his brain function appears to be normal. It’s been a long four days, but he’s recovering and the doctors are talking about releasing him soon. The thought of Tommy going back out into the world again terrifies her. 

She’s relieved that he’s better, but she’s also no longer naive. His addiction isn’t going to go away on it’s own. This isn’t a habit he is going to be able to kick without intervention. This is bigger than either of them can handle. 

Felicity, more than most people, understands how fragile life is and she can’t keep doing this. She can’t stand by and watch anyone else she loves die. 

“I don’t need—” 

“Thomas Jasper Merlyn,” she says firmly, cutting off whatever flimsy excuse he’s about to give her. She isn’t doing this. Not anymore. “You are going to go to rehab.”

He eyes her up and down, reading the threat in her voice. She notices the change in body language the second the threat registers. “Or what?” 

“Or this is the end of our friendship,” she says, willing her voice to stay strong so that he’ll see how serious she is. 

Tommy snorts. “Are you fucking kidding me? All the shit that I’ve stood by you through and you’re going to leave me the second things get hard for me? That’s bullshit!” 

“I’m not leaving you the second things get hard,” she argues. “I’ve been by your side for the last year and a half watching you wither away into nothing. I’ve done everything I can to help you, but nothing works. This isn’t something I can fix and it’s not something you can will away. You need help.” 

“And what? If I don’t get it, you’re going to just walk away?” he asks. “Nice.” 

“I can’t watch you die. I won’t hold your hand as you try kill yourself,” she says, trying to keep the anger out of her voice. She’s not saying this to get back at him. This isn’t about revenge, this is about protecting herself. 

Felicity loves Tommy more than anything. She would walk through hell for him if he asked her to. However, she almost lost him and in that moment, she realized just how easy it would be for her to crumble into a thousand pieces. She’s been on the edge before, not caring if she lived or died. She can’t go through that again. 

If Tommy isn’t willing to take the steps necessary to get clean, she can’t be around him. Not anymore. As much as it kills her to say it, she will have to walk away from him in order to protect her own mental health. 

“For the last time, I didn’t try to kill myself,” he says through gritted teeth. 

“Intentional or not, continuing to do drugs is begging for an early grave,” she says. “Is this really what you want your life to be? Is this really what you think Oliver would have wanted for you? What your mother would have wanted?” 

“Fuck you!” Tommy yells. 

Felicity bites her lips to hold back a retort as her eyes fill with tears. He’s going through withdrawal. It’s making him angry and mean. That’s all this is. It’s not Tommy talking, it’s the addiction. 

Still, it doesn't make it any easier to deal with. 

“Think about it,” she pleads with him. “For me.” 

“I’m not doing shit for your ungrateful ass,” he says. “I have done nothing but help you for the last several years. I held you when you cried. I literally pulled the knife out of your hands when you were trying to kill yourself. I’ve kept you housed, clothed, and fed and now you’re going to look at me like I’m the one that needs help? Fuck you, you fucking bitch!” 

Felicity takes a step back from him and forces herself to stand tall despite his words. It’s the addiction talking. He’s scared and feeling backed into a corner. All of the books told her to expect this, she just hadn’t believed them. Tommy doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. Even with the people he absolutely hates, the worst he’ll ever do is glare at somebody. She’s never heard him curse like this before. Not as an insult. 

She can’t take it to heart. She knows he’s just scared. He doesn’t mean it. 

“I’ll come see you again tonight,” she tells him, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice. 

“Don’t come back,” he says in a nasty tone. “I don’t want you here. The only reason I’ve kept you around so long is because I felt obligated to Oliver. But the truth is, Oliver is dead and I don’t fucking want you here.”  

Felicity takes a deep breath and picks up her purse. 

“I’ll see you tonight,” she says. 

She walks out of the door as he continues to cuss at her. The second the door closes behind her, she bursts into sobs. 

****

Felicity holds Tommy tight as he cries into her shoulder. He’s so hysterical, she can’t understand a single word he’s saying. So she just sits there and runs her hands through his hair, telling him that everything will be alright. She’s not going anywhere. 

It’s not until the next morning, when he wakes up in her arms having fallen asleep crying in her bed, that she finds out what happened. Malcolm had come to speak to Tommy as he was getting discharged. Apparently, if Tommy goes to rehab and word gets out, Malcolm will cut him off. He cares more about the press than the health of his own son. 

****

Felicity sets a plate of waffles in front of Tommy along with a cup of coffee. He looks at the plate for several minutes before giving her a strange look. 

“Are you trying to poison me because I called you a bitch?” he asks. “Because I already apologized. That was the withdrawal talking.” 

“They’re Eggos,” she informs him. “I didn’t cook.” 

Tommy looks back at the waffles suspiciously, but eventually starts eating. She rolls her eyes as she starts to load the dishwasher. Their apartment has gotten out of control. She hasn’t bothered to clean anything since Tommy’s overdose, and lord knows Tommy hasn’t had the energy to do anything around the house in the three days that he’s been home. However, now that Tommy’s home, she really should get the house in order. Tommy likes things neat, and she’s sure that having things messy is only increasing his anxiety levels. 

“I talked to Moira yesterday,” he says, trying to sound casual. 

“Yeah?” she says, feigning ignorance. She’ll never admit it to Tommy, but she already knows. She put a bug on his phone and his laptop so that she’ll know if he tries to contact one of his dealers. 

“She found a place in New York that’s supposed to be really discreet,” he says. 

Felicity pauses as she’s putting a plate into the dishwasher. She’s sure that she’s heard him incorrectly. Tommy has been adamant that he isn’t going to get treatment. So adamant, that Felicity’s started to look at one bedroom apartments for herself because she’d been serious about cutting off her friendship with him if he didn’t get help. 

If he’s suddenly changed his mind, it’s news to her. 

“Oh?” is all she manages to say. She doesn’t want to appear too enthusiastic. With his wide eyes and constant shaking thanks to the withdrawal, he reminds her of a wild animal. She needs to proceed gently or she’ll scare him away. 

When Tommy doesn’t respond, Felicity turns around to look at him and she’s surprised to find him crying. She rushes to his side and before she can wrap her arms around him, he’s grabbing her waist and burying his face in her stomach.

“I don’t want to die,” he sobs. 

Felicity has to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from crying along with him as she rubs soothing circles into his back. 

“But I don’t know how to get better.” 

****

“You promise you’ll call?” Tommy asks, sitting at his desk as he watches her pack his bag for him. 

Felicity doesn’t make it a habit of waiting on Tommy hand and foot. He’s lived a pretty privileged life and so she usually makes a point of forcing him to do things for himself. But today is different. Today is the day they are flying out to New York to drop Tommy off at rehab. Today, Felicity is willing to do basically anything for Tommy in order to make this easier for him. 

“As often as they’ll allow,” she tells him. 

He nods, but she can see that he’s still worried. 

“I promise you, no amount of time or distance is going to change things with us,” she says. “I’m in this with you… As much as I can be. If I could go with you, I would. But…” 

“But this is something I have to do on my own,” he repeats with a roll of his eyes. It’s a conversation they’ve had at least twenty times since he agree to go to rehab yesterday. 

“I’m so incredibly proud of you for doing this,” she says. “It’s not easy to ask for help, but I promise you, you’re going to feel so much better once you’re clean and you have your head on straight.” 

“I’m scared,” he admits. 

“It’s normal to be scared of something you don’t know.” She finishes packing his bag and zips it up, checking her watch. They have to leave for the airport in ten minutes. “But you’ll do fine.” 

“I’m not scared of rehab,” he says. “I’m scared of what comes after it. I’m scared of getting clean and having to stay clean.” 

Felicity’s heart breaks at his confession. 

“Let’s just try and take things one day at a time,” she says, trying to sooth him. “We don’t need to borrow trouble.” 

Tommy doesn’t respond right away, but she can see he’s working up to something he wants to tell her. She sits down on the edge of the bed and waits him out. He’ll get to it eventually, she doesn’t need to rush him. 

“I know that things got... bad after Hong Kong,” he says. 

She nods. 

“So much of the last year is a black hole. I don’t remember most of what I did,” he whispers, like it’s some kind of secret. She’s hardly surprised he doesn’t remember this entire year. The fact that he never overdosed until now is truly a miracle. The amount of drugs he’s consumed in the last year alone is insane. 

“Felicity… I don’t think I’ve been clean since high school,” he confesses. 

“What?” She does a double take, unsure that she’s heard him correctly. 

“I’ve been using since high school,” he says. “Not as much, not as often, but still… I’ve gotten high at least once a week since I was a kid. It was an easy way to escape a lot of things that I’ve never learned to deal with. The thought of being clean… Of having to confront those things? It’s terrifying.” 

She tries not to think about what he could possibly have been trying to escape as a high schooler. They weren’t close back then, so she wasn’t privy to a lot of details on his childhood. She knows he took his mother’s death hard, but he’d been young when that happened. And despite her death, he always seemed like a fairly well adjusted kid. She’s curious what else happened to him that would lead him to self medicate. 

She has a lot of ideas, just based on what she’s seen of his relationship with his father, but none that she wants to think too long and hard about. What’s in the past is in the past and there’s nothing she can do to fix that now. 

“Rehab will teach you to deal with your issues in a healthy way,” she says because they both need that reminder. 

He nods and she opens the door to his bedroom and carries his bag out into the living room to put it next to his carry on. 

“Are you ready? Do you have everything?” she says, gesturing around the apartment. 

“I don’t know, do I?” he asks. “You packed for me.” 

“You’ve got everything. I checked the list on the website,” she informs him. 

“Of course you did,” he says with a laugh. 

“So I guess this is it. You’re really leaving.” 

“I’m coming back,” he says. It’s a good reminder for them both. 

Just because he’s leaving temporarily, doesn’t mean he won’t be back. This isn’t a goodbye, it’s a ‘see you later.’ Tommy isn’t leaving her alone. He’s getting treatment so that she never has to worry about him leaving her again. 

“Of course,” she says with a smile, reaching out to give his hand a squeeze. “And you’ll be better than ever.” 

Tommy grabs his suitcase and Felicity grabs both of their carry ons. Together, they walk out of the apartment and head down to the parking garage. They load up their bags before getting into her car. 

It’s not until they are on the interstate that Tommy reaches across the center console to grab onto her hand. She uses the controls on her steering wheel to turn the radio down, sensing that he has something he wants to say. She glances over at him. 

“I never said thank you,” he tells her, his eyes firmly on the road ahead.  

“For what?” she asks. 

Tommy finally looks away from the road to meet her eyes. There’s a life in them that she hasn’t seen in months. For so long, the drugs have had him locked away from her. But now that he’s starting to get clean again, she can see a sliver of the man she used to know. The one who wasn’t high every second of the day. There’s a vulnerability there. An intense sadness. 

If she wasn’t driving, she would have stared into his eyes forever, cherishing the first glimpse of emotion she’s seen from him — even if it’s sadness — it’s proof that her Tommy is still under there. 

“Saving my life,” he says quietly. 

Her hands clenched tightly on the steering wheel and she contemplates her next words carefully. She could say that it’s nothing, but that’s a lie. It was most definitely something, and she shouldn’t belittle it. Seeing Tommy like that was utterly traumatizing and she needs him to understand that so it never happens again. 

She could say that she never wants to see him in that position again. She could remind him instead that he saved himself by choosing to go to rehab. She could tell him that saving his life had been an easy choice to make. There’s a million things she could say, but instead, she settles on one. 

“I guess now we’re even.” 


	17. High Heels and Power Suits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy helps give Felicity a makeover for work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The one I posted yesterday was so depressing, I figured I'd go ahead and post something fluffier today to make up for it. 
> 
> This takes place December of 2008, a few days after Tommy graduates and moves back home full time. Check out the full timeline [here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13304013)

“I can’t believe I agreed to this,” Tommy says as they both climb out of his car and walk towards the Starling City Premium Outlet Mall. He’s walking significantly slower than she is and she’s sure that he’s contemplating turning around, so she reaches out to grab onto his hand. 

“This was your idea, you do remember that, right?” she says, giving him the side eye. 

“When I mentioned getting you new clothes, I pictured us doing that downtown at the boutiques where they have personal shoppers, private waiting areas, and free champagne,” he says, causing her to roll her eyes. 

“You are such a snob,” she says as they walk up to one of the mall’s directories to figure out where to go. She has no interest in roaming around aimlessly in the cold. She doesn’t understand the premise of an outdoor mall in a city like Starling. It’s December and it’s cold. She huddles closer to Tommy for warmth as she looks over the list of stores. 

“If we just went to Target like I suggested, we could be inside right now and not freezing our asses off,” she grumbles as Tommy pulls on her hand and starts leading the way towards what she’s sure will be one of the more expensive stores.  

Felicity isn’t entirely sold on this trip to begin with. The idea that she has to somehow make herself over in order to be taken seriously at work is sexist. She works in the basement as part of the IT department. Most of the men she works with take very little care in how they dress each day and yet her boss has no problem giving them challenging tasks to work on. Simply because she’s a woman, she has to look pretty for people to believe she has a brain? It’s not fair. 

“And if we’d just gone downtown like  _ I _ suggested, we could be inside right now drinking while beautiful women brought the clothes to us,” he counters. “Stop complaining, Smoak. You agreed to this.” 

“I’m not spending thousands of dollars on this little whim of yours,” she reminds him, because it’s always worth reminding Tommy when it comes to issues of money. He doesn’t understand the value of a dollar. She’s seen him spend in a matter of minutes what it takes her over a month to make. 

“It’s not a whim.” 

He pulls her into the Kate Spade outlet. It’s all bright colors and valley girls. It’s not even close to being Felicity’s scene. She tugs her hand until he lets go of it and stands firmly by the door. He turns around and gives her The Look _. _ It’s the same look he gives her when he’s going to make her go out with him at night. Or the one he gave her when he decided they were going to take a spur of the moment trip to Thailand. It’s the look that says he’s not taking no for an answer. She hates that look. There’s no reasoning with that look. 

“You’ve been complaining since you got this job that nobody takes you seriously. Now that I’m home for good, I don’t want to hear about it every night. People look at you like a little girl that doesn't know what she’s doing. You and I both know that’s not true, but you aren’t going to convince them of that when you keep showing up looking like a kid dressed up in mom’s work clothes.” 

Felicity looks down at her panda flats and frowns. She crosses her arms defensively. 

“I am not dressing like my mother,” she says, already preparing to argue with Tommy about how a negligee isn’t meant to be worn out in public. 

“Of course not,” Tommy says. “Your mom works in a casino, and you work for a Fortune 500 company. But you know that’s not what I meant.” 

“I just don’t want to look like I got my job on my knees,” she says defensively.

“Well if that’s your goal, you failed. Everyone already thinks you got your job on your knees,” Tommy says with a laugh, earning him a hard punch to the shoulder. He can’t honestly find it funny that people at her office assume she slept with Tommy to get her job. Of course that rumor is better than the one that she slept with Malcolm. 

“Okay, sorry. I see we still aren’t ready to joke about that,” he says. “But seriously, Smoak. Do you really think I’m about to dress you up like a whore?” 

She shifts awkwardly on her feet. She’s not about to say it to his face, but she’s seen the kind of girls he brings home. His idea of a well dressed woman is one that wears next to nothing. 

“Trust me, I’ll make sure you look classy and sophisticated and way too good to work in the basement,” he says with a wink. “Now go pick out some things. And remember, we are trying to make you look older so nothing with animals on it.” 

He stares down pointedly at her shoes and she instinctively pulls one of her feet back to try and hide her shoes from his view. 

“What’s wrong with my shoes?” she asks. 

“Nothing,” he reassures her with a smile. “Your affinity for buying clothes with small animals on them is part of what makes you adorable and uniquely nerdy, but it’s not working in the office.” 

“Fine,” she grumbles, even though she knows that he’s right. She has to start dressing for the job that she wants. Isn’t that what all of the websites she’s been reading have said? “But can we go somewhere else? This place isn’t me.” 

Tommy looks around for a minute before turning back to her. 

“Alright, fine. We probably should ease you into colors considering your current wardrobe choices,” he says. “Let’s go to Calvin Klein. They’ll probably have dresses you’d be more comfortable in.” 

They walk across the way to Calvin Klein. Felicity rolls her eyes as Tommy starts walking around and immediately picks out several items for her. She stares at the mannequins in the store. It could honestly be worse. She expected to find skin tight dresses with deep V-necks or too short hemlines. But everything here is something she could wear and still look her rabbi in the face. It’s all... classy. A word she never really expected to say in the same sentence as Tommy Merlyn. He may be rich and able to afford the finer things in life, but she’s always equated him with flash more than class. 

She wanders around the store and picks out two black dresses that seem simple enough before heading back towards the fitting room where Tommy already has one of the shop girls helping him set armfuls of clothing onto a rolling rack outside of a fitting room. 

“Are we trying on the entire store?” she asks, her eyes wide in shock. 

“We are trying to find you a new look,” he informs her. “Until we try stuff on and see how it looks, we shouldn’t rule anything out.” 

“This is going to take all night,” she grumbles. So much for them finishing this up in time to get some dinner at Mario’s. 

“Perfection takes time, Smoak,” he says with a smirk. 

“If your goal is perfection, you’re going to want to carve out a hell of a lot more time,” she says. “And probably get a different girl.” 

“Nonsense,” he says, shaking his head. “Now strip.” 

“You two make such a cute couple,” the shop girl tells them as she hangs up some more items on a rolling rack and pushes it into the larger dressing room for them. 

“Oh, we aren’t dating,” she says. Felicity spends an obnoxiously large amount of time telling people as much. Apparently the idea of a male and female being such good friends is unheard of. She used to get the same comments about Oliver. Before he… 

No. She’s not going to think about that right now. 

“Oh,” the girl says with a surprised raise of the eyebrows as her eyes immediately roam appreciatively over Tommy’s body. “Well, you let me know if you need anything then, Mr. Merlyn.” 

The girl walks away, looking back over her shoulder at Tommy until she nearly runs into a rack of clothes and finally turns around. 

“You let me know if you need anything then, Mr. Merlyn,” Felicity whispers into his ear, batting her eyelashes dramatically until Tommy shoves her into the dressing room. 

“Don’t be a brat,” he says. “She’s sweet.” 

Felicity snorts. “You eat sweet for breakfast.” 

“I do not,” he grumbles as he hands her a dress to try on. 

“Please.” She stares at him knowingly. “When was the last time you dated anyone sweet? I’ll answer that for you. You haven’t. Ever. You take girls home you think you could fall for. Then the next morning you freak out about commitment and leave them high and dry. Stay away from sweet. Sweet girls get hurt too easily and you’re not looking for a reputation as a jackass.” 

Tommy watches as she takes off her coat first then her sweater and jeans. He’s looking at her, but she can tell he’s lost in thought and isn’t really watching her change. 

“I could date someone sweet,” he says as she pulls the purple dress over her head. 

“Sure,” she agrees. “You could be a really great boyfriend, too. But is that really what you want? Because experience would prove otherwise.” 

Tommy shrugs as she pulls her hair to the side so that he can zip her up. “Maybe I need a change.” 

“You say that every week,” she tells him, looking in the mirror with a frown. 

“Yeah, I don’t like this one,” he says. “It’s too… twirly.” 

“How is it possible I look even younger in this than my panda flats?” she asks with a laugh. 

“Here,” he says, handing her a more form fitting dress. “Try this instead.” 

Felicity pulls the dress off and hands it to Tommy to put back on the hanger for her. If he’s going to insist on being in the dressing room with her, the least he can do is make himself useful and save her some time. She slips on the tight blue dress, grumbling about how it doesn’t have a zipper. Once she gets it over her body, she turns to look in the mirror. 

“Damn,” Tommy says, eyeing her up and down as she tugs at the hemline self-consciously. 

“No,” she says, shaking her head as she crosses her arms over her chest to cover the fact that you can see the lines of her bra because the dress is so tight. 

“You look… stop eating hot,” Tommy says, causing her to laugh. They’ve been marathoning a lot of Friends recently. 

“I look like Smurfette,” she counters, meeting his eyes in the mirror. 

“You really don’t. You should get this one.” 

“It’s too tight,” she argues. “How am I supposed to move in this thing? I feel like if I bent over to fix somebody’s computer, I’d flash them.” 

“Well there’s an easy way to test that theory,” he says with a smirk. She glares at him. 

“I’m not bending over for you, asshole,” she says. 

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he says. “If that one is too tight, why don’t you try this one?” 

Tommy passes her a bright yellow dress that she immediately tosses into the no pile. 

“What’s wrong with that one?” he asks. 

“Am I trying to look like a daisy?” 

Tommy rolls his eyes at her. “You said you’d be open to trying new things.” 

“Yes. New things,” she says. “Not walking around in shades brighter than the sun.” 

“Fine.” 

He goes through the racks and pulls out several more dresses and immediately transfers them into the no pile. 

“Why don’t you pick out one that you think you’ll like?” 

She goes through the racks and pulls out a black dress that has him giving her an amused look. “Why am I not surprised?” 

Felicity pulls the dress on and looks at herself in the mirror. She turns to look at herself from the side and frowns at her reflection. 

“My ass looks huge,” she says. 

“Your ass is one of your best assets,” he reminds her. “You should be showing it off.” 

“I’m not looking for a date, I’m looking for a promotion,” she says. 

“Why can’t we do both?”

Felicity looks down at the ground as her eyes start to unexpectedly water. She hasn’t dated since Cooper. She’s not ready. Between Cooper committing suicide after taking the fall for her and Oliver getting himself lost at sea after confessing his feelings for her… She just isn’t willing to put herself through that again. She’s clearly cursed and shouldn’t date. 

Tommy wraps his arms around her and she falls into him, seeking comfort from him. He’s been her rock through all of this. She doesn’t know what she would have done without him this past year. 

“It’s okay,” he tells her. “When you’re ready, guys will still be out there. They’ll be lining up around the block to get a date with you.” 

She snorts at that. “I know you have to say that because you’re my friend, but really, you don’t have to lie. I know I’m not exactly the girl that guys line up for.” 

“That’s not even remotely true,” he tells her. “Now will you try this same style of dress on again, but in a different color?” 

She sighs. “Sure.” 

They spend an hour trying on the rest of the dresses and are able to narrow it down to ten that they can both agree on. Felicity is sure that it’s more than she can truly afford, but she can dip into her savings. After all, she needs to look at this as an investment in her future. The clothes are for work, plus they are well made. If she takes care of them, they should last her years. 

It’s a moot point, however, because Tommy ends up paying for the dresses before she even gets a chance to protest. She hates that he does that. She might not be as rich as he is, but she can pay for her own things. She’s not trying to be a kept woman. She has some pride left. 

Tommy asks the girl in the store for her phone number and Felicity leaves to go wait outside as they continue to flirt. She figures it would be rude to stand there in silent judgement, rolling her eyes. She’d already told Tommy her opinion on the matter and he’d asked the girl out anyway. When Tommy finally meets back up with her outside, she doesn’t bother commenting. She might not approve of his flirtations with a girl that seems far too breakable, but she knows commenting on it again will just make the girl all the more appealing to Tommy.

What is it with boys always wanting what they can’t have?  

“I’m paying you back,” she tells him, instead. She might let this shop girl thing go because they are both consenting adults and she can’t control it. However, this money thing isn’t something she’ll let pass. He can’t keep paying for her to do everything all the time. It happens far too often. He’ll rush her to the bill before she can pay and, because he’s blessed with a black Amex, stores always take his side. 

“Sure.” 

She doesn’t argue with him further, but she will be making a wire transfer to his account tonight when she gets home. He never checks his bank statements to know the difference, but it’s not for him, it’s for her. She needs to know that she’s capable of taking care of herself. 

They go into several more shops and find some more outfits for her, until she’s got a complete new wardrobe for work. With their hands weighed down with countless bags, they make their way back to Tommy’s car and fill up the trunk. She’s about to open the passenger side door, when Tommy grabs her wrist. 

“We aren’t done yet,” he tells her. 

“I’m tired,” she whines. “And I have enough clothes for at least a month. We can shop more later.” 

“We aren’t looking for more clothes,” he tells her. “We’re getting shoes.” 

She looks down at her feet and is about to argue what’s wrong with the work shoes she has, but she knows better. Even if all of her shoes aren’t covered with pandas, she can agree that she can’t exactly match a fancy dress from Ralph Lauren with some $10 clearance flats she bought from Payless. 

“You’d better feed me something really nice after this,” she warns him. 

“Me?” he says with a laugh. “I’m shopping at an outlet mall. I’ve been carrying most of your bags around like some kind of slave. You owe me a nice meal.” 

She rolls her eyes. “Fine. We can both go get a nice steak dinner from Garrett’s after this.” 

“Deal.” 

Twenty minutes later, she’s standing in a pair of heels glaring at Tommy. “I’m not wearing these.” 

“Felicity, you can’t pair a gorgeous dress with a pair of ballet slippers,” he says. “It throws off the entire look.” 

“I agreed to skirts and dresses,” she argues. “I didn’t agree to heels. I feel like you’re trying to turn me into a Barbie doll.” 

“I’m not.” 

“What’s wrong with flats?” she asks, kicking off the heels and slipping her own shoes back on. “They’re sensible.” 

“You are trying to get people to stop looking down at you,” he says. “Giving yourself some height will stop that in both the literal and figurative sense. Besides, a good pair of heels is the women’s equivalent of a power suit.” 

“A what?” 

“A power suit? You know. The suit every guy wears that makes him feel powerful, confident, and in control? You need that.” 

Felicity thinks over his words. She’s never heard of a power suit before. Even though her best friend growing up was a boy, Oliver never had any interest in suits. Oliver was the opposite of a power suit. He did everything he could to convince people he shouldn’t be in control of anything, ever. With her grandfather being retired and her father out of the picture before she could really get to know him, she’s never been around a man to learn about this so called “power suit.” The logic is sound though. If she wants people to take her seriously, she needs to appear powerful and confident. 

To be fair, her issue with wearing heels isn’t that she thinks they are truly stupid. She has seen enough girls strutting around Merlyn Global to know the appeal of a good heel. The sound of stilettos strutting down the hall demands attention. The issue she has with them is more self-consciousness. She’s still not sure she’s ready for the kind of attention that a makeover like this will bring her. Underneath all the fancy clothes, she’s still going to be Felicity. Plain, boring, nerdy Felicity who never knows the right thing to say or how to say it. 

“Okay…” she says, unsure. 

Tommy gives her a knowing look before pulling her in front of one of the full length mirrors. 

“Listen to me,” Tommy says. He stands behind her, holding her shoulders in place and staring her in the eyes through the mirror. “You’re a badass. You can totally pull off heels. And beyond that, you’re already perfect. Regardless of what shoes you wear or what clothes you have on, you’re gorgeous. Trust me. If I didn’t think Oliver would somehow find a way to come back and kill me from wherever he is, I would have tried hooking up with you a long time ago. This isn’t some rom-com moment where I’m making you over so suddenly you go from repulsive to beautiful.” 

Felicity turns around to look at him. “So this isn’t you trying to recreate She’s All That?” 

“I’m not a total jerk,” Tommy says. “I’m not trying to change who you or make you look like a Barbie doll. It’s not about that. It’s about finding the confidence to make people see that you’re bold, smart, confident, and one of a kind. You are a total boss, Smoak. It’s time people saw that.” 

“For all this talk about how this isn’t a rom-com moment, that was quite a monologue,” she teases him. 

“Why blend in when you were born to stand out,” he says dramatically, making her laugh. 

She walks back over to the bench where she’d been trying on shoes. 

“Do you really think I can pull off heels?” she asks. 

“Of course,” he says. “And if you can’t, you can always take lessons from your mom.” 

He smirks at her and she grumbles under her breath. She hates how close Tommy and her mother are. It’s annoying at best. The two of them together is a recipe for disaster. 

“I swear to god if you tell her that you’re making me over, I’ll kill you,” she tells him. 

“Too late,” he says. “I’ve been texting her pictures this whole time.” 

“Well joke’s on you, because she doesn’t know how to open a picture message,” she says, sticking her tongue out. 

“Is that why she’s been texting me back her detailed opinion on each of the outfits?” he asks, holding up his phone. 

Felicity does a double take, but sure enough, her mother has texted him back after each photo he’s sent her. Clearly, somebody at work finally showed her how to view a picture. Felicity has been trying to talk her through the process for months. Her mom has been asking for pictures of their apartment but hasn’t been able to open any that Felicity sends her through text or email. 

“I’m sure her comments all say that I should show some more skin,” she says, not bothering to read her mother’s responses. She’s heard it all before. 

Her mom has been begging Felicity to let her make her over since high school. Felicity has always refused. The last time she let her mother buy her clothes was the bikini she bought Felicity the summer Oliver came to visit. Felicity had felt ridiculous the entire time and had vowed to never again let her mother dress her. 

“Actually, no,” Tommy says. “Donna understands that you work in an office. She thinks our choices so far have been perfect. Her favorite is the pink Versace dress. She does think that we need to get you to start wearing lipstick to work.” 

“Great,” she says sarcastically. “Can I just say, once again, how sexist I think it is that we live in  a world where nobody will take me seriously unless I wear high heels and lipstick?” 

“You can say it, but it won’t change the fact that it’s true,” Tommy says. “You’ve gotta live in the world you’re born into until you figure out how to change it.” 

Felicity knows he’s right. If she didn’t agree, they wouldn’t be here shopping. She wouldn’t have indulged him in this makeover fantasy. 

She tries on several more pairs of heels before they decide on three: a basic black, a nude, and a bold red pair. Between the three of those, she should have something to match all of her outfits. It’s a start. They can buy more once she lives in her new look for a few weeks and knows what works and what doesn’t. 

They buy the shoes and Tommy takes the bag for her before walking her to stand in line at the pretzel cart. 

“What are you doing?” she asks. “Aren’t we still going to dinner?” 

“Yeah, but I’m getting you a snack before we leave. It’s at least a forty minute drive to the restaurant and you’re clearly hungry and starting to get grumpy. And when you’re grumpy, you get mean. So I’m buying you a pretzel,” he says. 

“A cinnamon sugar pretzel?” she asks, perking up as her stomach starts to grumble. 

“Is there any other kind?” Tommy asks with a laugh. 

“Well Oliver used to always get the jalapeno pretzels,” she says. 

“I know, because Oliver was a heathen with no taste,” Tommy says. “I know better than to subject a lady to that garbage.” 

It feels good to be able to talk about Oliver in such a way. They’d been doing it more and more, ever since Thailand. They’d realized during their vacation how much about their best friend they’d been keeping inside and how it was killing them both slowly. If they are going to survive this, they need to be able to talk about him openly. They need to be able to joke and laugh. They need to remember not just how he left them, but the good memories he left them with. 

Tommy buys them both a pretzel and they eat it as they walk back towards his car. 

“Just so you know, I texted Jessica to ask her if we should cut your hair,” he says as he loads the bag into the back with her other bags. 

“Jessica? Jessica… Sex in the girls locker room on graduation night Jessica?” she asks. 

Felicity didn’t go to high school with Tommy, but she’d heard all the stories from Oliver. 

“She works at one of those upscale salons,” he says, not bothering to confirm the story about the locker room sex. “I figured she’d give us an honest opinion.” 

“I’m sure that’s all you were looking for… an opinion,” she says knowingly. 

“It’s not like that with us,” he says, getting into the car and starting it up. 

“Sure it’s not,” Felicity says, plugging the address for their favorite steakhouse into the GPS since neither of them are on this side of town often. “So much for trying to date the sweet shop girl.” 

“I can still date her,” Tommy says defensively as he pulls out of the parking lot. 

“Sure, sure,” Felicity says. “So you and Jessica aren’t going to meet up this weekend?” 

Tommy blushes. 

“That’s what I thought,” Felicity says with a laugh. 

****

On Monday, Felicity wakes up extra early to get herself dolled up. She straightens her hair like Jessica suggested she do and pulls it back into a high ponytail so that she won’t look like she’s trying so hard. She puts makeup on her face and a bright, long lasting pink shade on her lips. She then pulls on blue and black patterned dress and pairs it with a white blazer over it. As she slides into her nude heels, she looks herself over in the mirror. She adjusts her glasses as she turns from side to side, checking herself from every angle. She still looks like her. Tommy hadn’t completely changed who she is with this makeover. She just looks older. More sure of herself. He’d been right, the heels really do give her confidence. 

She walks through the living room and down the hall to Tommy’s bedroom for the final stamp of approval before she leaves. She knocks gently. Tommy will hear it but she doesn’t want to wake Jessica, who she knows stayed over last night. When she steps into the room, Tommy gives her a whistle of approval. 

“Well hello, Ms. Head of IT,” he says. 

Felicity blushes. “I’m nowhere close to becoming Head of IT,” she corrects him. 

“If you can walk into work as confidently as you just walked into this room, you’ll be the head of the department sooner than you think,” Tommy says. 

“Tommy’s right, you look amazing. I’d totally let you boss me around,” Jessica says through a yawn as she sits up in bed, not remotely concerned with the fact that she’s wearing only a bra. “I told you that you didn’t need to change your hair color or cut it. Straightening it did wonders.” 

Felicity reaches up to run her hands through the smooth locks. Jessica was right. Straightening it before pulling it back took a lot of the frizz out of her hair so she could look more put together. 

“Next, I’ll teach you how to wear it curly without the humidity making it frizzy,” she says. 

“So does that mean you’re planning on sticking around for a next time?” Felicity asks. 

“Alright, Detective, that’s enough questioning my client without a warrant,” Tommy says, rolling out of bed. He walks over to the door and practically pushes her out of it as she laughs at him. 

“You look amazing. Go kill it at work today,” he says. 

“Thank you,” she replies with a smile. “Seriously. I really appreciate this.” 

“Anytime.” 


	18. Milkshakes and Baby Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver just wants his girlfriend and his mother to get along, so he jumps at the chance to take them both out for some late night burgers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place in November of 2012, about a week after the events in The Weight on a Soul. 
> 
> For a complete timeline, see [Home Verse Timeline](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13304013)

“So, how do you feel about Big Belly tonight?” Oliver asks Felicity when she picks up the phone. 

He can hear the sound of a door opening and closing along with the slide of a lock. She’s clearly just gotten home, which is good. If she hasn’t had time to change into her pajamas yet, he’s much more likely to convince her to come back out. 

“I sincerely hope that this is you telling me that you’re bringing some home,” she says longingly. “Tommy throws one hell of a party, but I can’t live off of finger food alone.” 

“Well, not exactly,” he tells her, looking over at his mother as he puts the car into drive. As good as laying back on the couch with her eating junk food sounds after the day he’s had, he wants to make amends with his mother even more. “I was hoping you would be willing to meet me there.” 

Oliver hears her deep sigh. 

“I literally just took off my shoes.” She sounds exhausted. “Can’t you just get take out?” 

He feels guilty for even asking. Felicity is still technically healing from the shooting, despite what she might say. And with her job at Merlyn Global and everything she’s been doing to help him with his mission, she’s been burning the candle at both ends. It’s late. He should let her sleep. 

However, if his mother is willing to try, he doesn’t feel like he can pass this opportunity up. More than anything, he needs Felicity and his mom to get along. He’s spent too much time away from his loved ones to have to sacrifice time with either of them over some silly idea his mom has that Felicity isn’t good enough for him. 

“Actually, I’m on my way to Big Belly with my mom and she invited you to come,” he tells her. 

He’s not surprised when she starts laughing. 

“Yeah. Okay. Sure,” she says, clearly amused. “I’ll be right there.” 

“Felicity,” he says carefully, needing her to know that he’s serious. 

“You’re not joking?” Oliver can picture the adorably confused expression she must be wearing. 

“Come eat with us,” he says softly, wanting Felicity to hear how much he needs her to agree to this without his mom feeling like he had to beg Felicity to come out. 

She doesn’t respond right away. He doesn’t need to see her face to know she’s thinking about the best way to tell him no, which is more than fair. After the way his mom has treated her, she’s allowed to be hesitant. But Oliver needs her to try. If his mom is going to try, he needs Felicity to as well. For his own sanity. 

“Come out to eat with us and we’ll sleep in tomorrow,” he tells her.

“You won’t get up at 5am and try to convince me to go running with you?” she asks, doubtfully. 

“We’ll stay in bed until at least noon,” he promises. 

Felicity hums happily. “That does sound lovely.” 

“So I’ll see you at Big Belly in twenty minutes?” he asks, hopefully. 

She grumbles. “Fine. But I’m going to change first and take down my hair,” she says. “I’ll be there in forty minutes. Order me a triple chocolate milkshake.” 

“Felicity—” he’s about to protest when she cuts him off. 

“The milkshake is non-negotiable,” she tells him firmly. “I’m having dinner with your mother.” 

Oliver doesn’t love how much sugar she eats on a regular basis, but he figures he should let this one time pass. After all, Felicity is agreeing to have dinner with his mom with very little argument. 

Not that she ever would argue it. The only reason Oliver knows the full extent of what his mother has done to Felicity in the past is because she was high on painkillers and let it slip. Tommy filled him in on the rest. Otherwise, Oliver’s never heard more than an off hand comment here and there from Felicity. She truly does a good job of biting her tongue for Oliver’s sake. 

God, he loves her. How his mother can’t see how wonderful she is, is beyond him. 

“I’ll make sure the milkshake is waiting,” he says. “I love you.” 

“Love you too,” she says before hanging up the phone. 

“So she’s coming then?” his mom asks, trying to sound casual. 

“She is,” he says. “And you’re going to play nice?” 

“Oliver, I didn’t ask you to invite her out just so I could berate the girl,” she says defensively. 

Oliver nods his head and says no more. The two of them drive in relative silence into the city. 

“Where are we going, exactly?” she asks when Oliver gets off at the exit for the Glades. 

“A burger place that Dig introduced me to,” he says. 

His mom looks out the window concerned and Oliver shakes his head, keeping his amusement to himself. She’s never liked him going into the Glades, but she has no idea how little danger they are actually in. Oliver’s survived far worse than the Glades and can protect them both against anything that they might encounter. However, it’s unlikely he’ll have to, the worst of this city’s criminals don’t live on this side of town. They frequent dinner parties at the Queen’s. Their wives play bridge with his mother on Saturday mornings. 

She looks like she wants to say something more, but bites her tongue.

“So you and Mr. Diggle seem to be getting along much better,” she says instead. “I’m glad you stopped trying to ditch him. I worry about you.” 

“I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for years,” he reminds her. 

“Yes, I suppose you have,” she says. 

Oliver pulls up in front of Big Belly, happy to see that there’s a spot near the entrance. With only street parking available, he often has to go a few blocks away to find a spot and he’s pretty sure his mother wouldn’t be comfortable with that. 

He turns off the car and steps out, walking around to help his mom out of the car. 

“So this is Big Belly Burger,” she says, skeptical. 

“It’s good, I promise.” 

Oliver offers her his arm and she happily takes it. The two of them walk inside and slide into a booth. Carly walks over to them, saying hello briskly as she hands them two menus. She still hasn’t forgiven Oliver for the fact that Digg was wearing a sling a few weeks ago. She thinks that he is bad news, and she’s not exactly wrong. However, Oliver would never have brought Digg into the mission if he couldn’t take care of himself. 

“So, what’s good here?” she asks, picking up the menu to look it over. 

“I usually get the classic,” he says, not even bothering to open his menu. He’s going to get his usual. 

Carly comes back over to take their orders. His mom orders a classic and he does the same, ordering a BBQ burger for Felicity along with milkshakes for the table. 

“I can’t remember the last time I had a milkshake,” his mom says with a smile. “Your father used to take me to this old diner uptown when we first started going steady. They had the best strawberry shakes.” 

“I know,” Oliver says, smiling back. “He used to take me to that same diner when I was little. It was on the way home from the stadium and he would always tell me the story about how he convinced you to go out with him by bribing you with milkshakes.” 

“I was sad when they closed that diner down.”

Oliver nods. He remembers when they did so back when he was in high school. His dad had tried to bring him there after a Rockets game and the entire building had been torn down. They’d replaced it with a Starbucks. 

The front door chimes and Oliver looks up to see Felicity walking in. She’s wearing jeans and an old MIT sweatshirt with her hair falling down her back in curls. Her makeup is still all done up from the benefit earlier tonight. He can’t help the huge smile that comes over him at the sight of her. She’s always going have the power to leave him breathless. 

“Hey,” he says, scooting over so that she can slide into the booth next to him. 

“Sorry if I’m late,” she says as he puts his arm over the back of her seat and places a kiss to her temple. 

“You’re right on time. We just ordered our food.” 

“You haven’t changed?” she asks, looking from his suit to her worn sweatshirt. 

“Haven’t been home yet,” he says, giving her an amused look. 

Oliver had gone from the party to the bank, to the bunker, to the manor. He tries to keep spare clothes in the bunker, but as Felicity will remember, Oliver had to wear those spare clothes home earlier today after the clothes he’d been wearing had gotten suspicious stains on them when she decided to stop by to help him “train” after work today. 

Felicity turns a deep shade of red as she looks down at the table, clearly remembering exactly why he wouldn’t have any clothes at the bunker. He can’t help but laugh. When she looks up to glare at him, he gives her a quick kiss on the lips. 

At that moment, Carly comes back over to set their milkshakes down in front of them. 

“Hey,” Carly says with a wide smile, her standoffish attitude disappearing completely at the sight of Felicity. 

“Hey! How’s AJ doing?” Felicity asks. 

The two women discuss Digg’s nephew for a minute or two before Carly leaves to go check on her other tables. 

Moira clears her throat and Felicity looks over at her, instantly shrinking a bit further into her seat. It’s obvious that she’d forgotten Moira was there. Oliver moves his arm to rest around her shoulder, letting her know that he’s here for her in case this dinner doesn’t go well. 

“So how are you feeling?” his mom asks, sounding genuinely curious. 

“Oh.” Felicity looks at him confused before turning back to face his mom. “Um… I’m doing okay. Back to work and everything.” 

Felicity starts rolling her shoulder. He doesn’t even think she realizes that she’s doing it. But everytime someone mentions the shooting, she starts. It’s like a nervous tic. He reaches up with his other hand to rub the space where her stitches had just been removed the day before. 

She looks up at him and he can see the discomfort in her eyes. 

“Despite the fact that I told her that she should take another week off,” he intervenes, taking some of the pressure off of Felicity to talk. He assumes that she’s probably nervous that she’s going to start rambling and make a fool of herself. Not that she has anything to worry about. He finds her ramblings adorable. 

“Departments don’t run themselves, Oliver,” she says, rolling her eyes at him. They’ve been having this argument all week. It’s not even really an argument. Neither of them is truly upset with the other. It’s more playful bickering. 

“And how are you settling into Ryan Davenport’s old position?” his mom asks. 

“Good,” Felicity says. “I think. I mean any new job is an adjustment, but I’m doing well. Why? What have you heard?” 

His mom shakes her head. “Nothing. Well, aside from the fact that Walter’s been talking about needing to come up with a plan to make sure Merlyn Global doesn’t put QC out of business.” 

“Don’t be silly. That’s not part of our vision. Over the next ten years, we’re actually looking to shift away from agricultural and manufacturing and focus more on clean energy and technology,” Felicity says, starting to visibly relax and grow more confident. 

Oliver loves watching her talk about work because it’s when she’s truly in her element. She knows what she’s doing and isn’t afraid to let people know as much. This is the Felicity that his mom needs to see. The strong, fearless girl that he’s in love with. 

“Yes, Malcolm told us that you had quite the vision for the R&D department,” his mom says. Oliver relaxes back into his seat as two of his favorite women talk business. “What makes you think that agricultural and manufacturing aren’t worthy places to focus your attention.” 

“They are,” Felicity agrees. “But when you look at the talent pool in a company, you have to figure out where your resources are best spent. Our agricultural and manufacturing divisions are doing well. But that’s now. And R&D departments always have to be looking ahead. We don’t have new and innovative ideas coming out in those areas. Other companies do and pretty soon, we are going to start seeing our profits decrease. What we do have, is some pretty promising research in technology and clean energy. So that’s where I suggested we put our money.” 

His mom nods her head, clearly impressed. “I thought you majored in cyber security.” 

“And computer sciences,” Felicity says.

“So what makes you confident in your ability to determine a company’s direction?” 

Oliver can feel Felicity tense and he pulls her closer to him in an effort to help her relax. His mom isn’t trying to interrogate her or question her decisions. She’s just making conversation. Still, he’s sure it’s hard for Felicity not to read into everything his mom says, looking for the hidden insult. 

“Well I don’t exactly determine the company’s direction,” Felicity says. “I just help determine what research to fund based on what my team is currently working on and I think is worth pursuing. Malcolm ultimately decides the company’s direction.” 

“But the work that comes out of Research and Development ultimately determines how a company grows in their future,” his mom explains. “So you have to understand a lot about business to make those kind of funding decisions.” 

“Well I know tech,” she explains. “I know what’s going to be successful and what won’t be. I can understand what ideas might be possible given time and money, and what projects will take too much money and time to ever be profitable. As for the business end... I guess… Well… I actually learned a lot about business from your husband... Your late husband… Oliver’s dad.” 

“Robert?” his mom says at the same time he says, “My dad?” 

Felicity looks up at him. “I spent a lot of time at your house when I was little. And I was always fascinated with what your dad did. So I asked him a lot of questions and he always answered them. I guess most of it stuck with me.” 

Oliver is a bit shocked by this news. He was always complaining about how much he hated QC and what his dad did. He told her all the time about how he didn’t want to inherit the company. He had no interest in taking over as CEO one day. Never once had Felicity discussed how she actually enjoyed what his dad did. Sure, he remembered her asking his dad questions growing up, but Felicity asked everyone questions. She was always such a curious girl, always desperate to know everything about everything. He never thought it was more than that. 

“Robert was a smart businessman,” his mom says. 

“He was,” Felicity agrees, turning her attention back to his mom, but she places a hand on his thigh and gives it a supporting squeeze, letting him know that they can talk about it more later if he would like. 

“It’s too bad that Oliver never took that same kind of interest in the company,” his mom says, giving him the same look she’s been giving him for years. 

“Mom—” 

“QC is your legacy, Oliver,” she says. 

Oliver sighs deeply. This is certainly not how he saw the evening going and it’s been too long of a day to deal with this now. 

“You are your father’s legacy,” Felicity says, smiling up at him as she rubs his thigh in comfort. “And that’s going to be true whether you run QC or not. And I know he’d be proud of the man that you’ve become.” 

Looking into her eyes, Oliver can see that she’s not talking about his plans to open a nightclub. She’s talking about The Hood. About Oliver’s plan to right his father’s wrongs and save this city. 

“What is Walter afraid of anyway?” Felicity asks, changing the subject, thankfully. “QC’s focus is on their construction businesses and government contracts. You’ve never had an interest in technology.” 

“No, we haven’t,” his mom says. 

“So then there’s enough space in the city for both of us,” Felicity says. 

His mom looks her over carefully, and Oliver gets the impression that they suddenly aren’t talking business at all. He holds his breath as his mom takes a moment to respond. 

“Yes, I suppose there is.” 

Carly comes back over to the table and places their food down in front of them. 

“Thank you,” Oliver says. It isn’t until this exact moment where he’s smelling the french fries in front of him that he truly registers how hungry he really is. He hasn’t eaten since the early lunch he had with Thea and it’s nearly midnight. 

“Oh yes, sweet greasy goodness,” Felicity says, pulling her basket in front of her as she reaches over and steals one of Oliver’s fries. 

“Hey,” he says, glaring at her playfully. “Eat your own food.” 

She picks up one of the onion rings on her plate and hands it to him in apology. He takes it and pops it in his mouth. 

“Alright,” his mom says, picking up her fork and knife.

Oliver shakes his head with a laugh, swallowing quickly so he can say, “Mom.” 

She looks over at him and he can’t help but smile. Seeing his mom in a place like this really is something new. He doesn’t know if he’s ever been anywhere with her that didn’t have white tablecloths and multi-course meals. 

“It’s okay to get your hands dirty every once in a while,” he says. “For me. Please.” 

He expects her to argue with him. Instead, she places her silverware down on the table and picks up her burger. 

“Alright,” she says, taking a bite. He chews on a french fry while he waits expectantly for her reaction. The look on her face says it all. “Mmmm.” 

“Mm-Hmm,” he agrees. 

“Mmm,” she continues to moan, shaking her head in disbelief. He understands the feeling. He’d had a similar reaction the first time Digg brought him here. 

“Yeah.” 

His mom points to the burger. “That is a great burger.” 

Felicity nods in agreement and Oliver can’t help but smile as he remembers how she’d made an old lady blush with how loudly she’d moaned the first time she’d been brought here. God, that had been a good night. Every night with her at his side is a good night. 

“Thank you for this,” his mom says. 

“Anytime.” He truly means it. 

Back on the island, he could only ever dream of having moments like this with his family. Oliver had been ready to write his mom off in order to support Felicity, but he’s happy that he doesn’t have to. He’s happy that they are both trying. He loves his mom and wants her to be part of his life. 

Felicity rests her head on his shoulder as he looks between two of his favorite women. He knows that one night can’t undo all the harm that has been done, but it feels like a good start and for that he’s happy.

Felicity continues to steal french fries from his basket to dip into her milkshake. After what must be her tenth one, he reaches over and takes the onion rings off of her plate and puts them onto his own. He then takes a large handful of fries and places them on her plate. She looks up at him with sleepy eyes, not moving her head from his shoulder, and she gives him a smile. 

“Best boyfriend ever.” 

She yawns again. Oliver feels guilty for keeping her out so late. Thankfully, tomorrow is a weekend and she doesn’t have to go into work. They can sleep in and spend the entire day in bed together if they chose. She’ll get plenty of rest, he’ll see to that. 

“Tired?” he asks, even though he knows the answer. 

“I want to finish my burger first,” she says, in response to the question he hasn’t yet asked her, which is if she wants to head home and get to sleep. 

When she doesn’t move to pick up her burger, he looks at his mom before rolling his eyes fondly. He picks up her burger for her and brings it to her mouth. She takes a bite and moans happily. 

“For the record, I object to being one of those couples,” she says. 

Oliver snorts. She’s certainly protesting him feeding her in public really hard at the moment. He’s about to put her burger down, but she reaches out and holds onto his wrist so that she can take another bite. 

“You know it’s not a sin for people to know that you let your boyfriend take care of you,” he tells her. “It doesn’t mean you’re not still a strong, independent woman.” 

Felicity sits up in her seat, stretching as she gives a big yawn. Oliver knows she must be beyond tired, because she begins eating her food on her own without a single retort. 

“You know, I’ll bet Carter Bowen doesn’t know where to find the best burger joint in Starling City,” his mom says. 

Oliver looks over to her in shock. “So I have one thing on him.” 

His mom shakes her head. “No.” 

She reaches over to place a hand over his own. “You have everything, Oliver.” 

Looking between Felicity and his mom, he can’t help but feel as if that’s really true. 


	19. Playground Crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver meets a new friend on the first day of first grade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that I owe everyone updates on other fics... but I've been overwhelmed with my grad school class and unable to handle writing angst at the moment... so have some fluff! 
> 
> This story takes place in August of 1991, a few months after the events of [Kensington Clinic.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12396564/chapters/30004563) For a more complete timeline, see the [Home Verse Timeline.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13304013)

“You’re it!” Tommy yells, smacking him in the back. “Try to get me!” 

Tommy runs past him on the bridge. Oliver turns around in just enough time to see Tommy go flying down the slide. 

“Hey! No fair!” Oliver yells at him as Tommy goes running off around the playground. 

He pushes past Carter to go down the slide and chase after Tommy. 

It’s morning recess on their first day back at school. This time last year, Oliver had been one of the terrified kindergartners hanging out on the sidewalk with their parents, crying about how they don’t want to go to school. This year, Oliver knows better. School is awesome! They get to run around the playground and get grass stains, eat their dessert first at lunch, and Mrs. Winter in art class actually lets them use real paint! 

The only reason that Oliver’s feeling a little bit sad today is because Tommy got put into Mrs. McHenry’s class and he’s stuck with Ms. Rosenbloom. It’s the worst. Oliver had tried to get Mommy to have the school put him in Tommy’s class, but the school said no. They think Tommy and Oliver gave Mrs. Young all her headaches last year. 

Oliver thinks the school is lying. Tommy and he just like to play. That’s what school’s for anyways. It’s not his fault that Mrs. Young always wanted them to stop talking and read and stuff. 

Oliver chases Tommy around the playground several times. He nearly catches him going through the tube at the top of the playset, but his shoelace gets caught on a screw and he has to stop and retie his shoe. 

“You’re going too fast!” he yells at Tommy from the top of the slide while Tommy sticks his tongue out at him. 

“You’re too slow, Ollie!” Tommy says, bending over in half because he’s laughing so hard. 

Oliver gets frustrated. He used to be faster than Tommy, but this summer Tommy got super fast. Or Oliver got super slow or something. Mommy says that he’s just going through a growth spurt and he’ll stop tripping over his feet soon. He hopes so. If he can’t catch Tommy on the playground then he’s always going to be it. And that’s not fun. 

Oliver narrows his eyes at Tommy. He really wants to tell him to shut up, but Raisa said it’s a mean word and he shouldn’t say it. Oliver doesn’t want to get in trouble on his first day. If Mr. Frank hears him, he’s going to get sent to time out and he won’t be able to play anymore. 

Tommy takes off running towards the parking lot, yelling Oliver’s name and calling him a slow poke. Oliver slides down the slide and chases after him. Only, when he reaches the parking lot, he notices somebody. 

A girl.

Her hair is kind of crazy like Raisa’s gets in the summer and it’s tied up on top of her head. She has glasses on her face and she’s crying. 

Oliver’s never seen her before, which is weird. Starling Prep isn’t a big school. Who he has seen are Rachel Miller and Taylor Gustav. They are in second grade and they are the meanest kids on the playground. Last year, they made Tommy cry when they laughed at him for his missing front tooth. They still tease Frankie for wetting his pants last year. Oliver doesn’t like them at all. 

He ignores Tommy’s taunts and walks over to where Rachel and Taylor are standing over the girl and calling her names. His heart starts thumping and his hands go into fists. He is so angry he thinks that he might become the Incredible Hulk. He doesn’t know this girl, but he isn’t going to let Rachel and Taylor keep teasing her. 

He steps in front of the girl and stares Rachel and Taylor down. 

“Stop it!” he says, glaring at them. 

“Or what?” Taylor asks, crossing her arms. “You’ll tell your mommy?” 

“No,” Oliver says, stomping his foot. “I’ll tell everyone that your daddy doesn’t love your mommy.” 

Oliver doesn’t know a lot about Taylor’s mommy and daddy, but he has heard  _ his _ mommy say that to his daddy about Mr. Gustav. Mommy said he’s not supposed to talk about it, but Taylor is a bully who needs to be defeated. 

Taylor’s bottom lip starts to shake and her eyes water. “You’re mean.” 

“You’re mean,” Oliver argues. “You’re mean to everyone and nobody likes you.” 

Taylor starts to cry. 

“At least we aren’t stupid,” Rachel teases and several kids around them gasp and all turn to look at them. 

Oliver’s face gets hot and it feels like an elephant has just sat on his belly. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to,” the girl behind him says. 

He turns around and looks into her eyes. She looks so sad and Oliver might not like being called the s-word, but it doesn’t matter. He feels brave. Like the elephant on his belly just walked away and he is ready to go fight a tiger. 

“It’s not okay,” Oliver says firmly. He turns back to Rachel. “I might be stupid, but at least I’m not a poo face.” 

“Is she your girlfriend, Queen?” Rachel teases. 

Oliver just laughs. “Why? Are you jealous?” 

Everyone around them goes, “oohhhh,” and it gives Oliver the confidence to keep going. 

“I’d say pick on somebody your own size, but nobody in second grade likes you. That’s why you play with first graders,” he says. 

“I’m telling!” Rachel stomps her feet before grabbing Taylor’s hand and dragging her off. They run off, yelling that he’s being mean. 

“You’re going to get in trouble,” the girl says. 

Oliver turns around to look at her again. She’s wiping her eyes and he feels like he wants to wipe her tears away for her, like Mommy and Raisa always do for him. He doesn’t. That would be weird. He doesn’t even know her name. 

Instead, he leans over and picks up her fallen lunchbox. It has the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on it, which Oliver thinks is super cool! His mom wouldn’t buy him any of the cool lunch boxes that he’d wanted at the store. The girl’s lunchbox is at her feet, so he sees her Wonder Woman shoes. They make him smile. Her mommy must really like her if she lets her wear all of this superhero stuff. Oliver isn’t allowed to wear Spiderman stuff anywhere but to bed. His mom says it’s not proper. 

“I like Michelangelo,” he says, handing her back her lunchbox. 

“What?” the girl asks,rubbing her eyes. 

“I like Michelangelo,” he says, continuing to hold out her lunchbox for her to take. She looks at him like he’s crazy. “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? Mikey is my favorite.” 

“Oh,” she says, still sniffling, finally reaching out to take her lunchbox back. “I like Donny.” 

“Cool,” he says. Tommy calls after him to come on, but Oliver ignores him. The girl is still sad and he doesn’t want to leave her. “You know, I like superheroes, too.” 

“Yeah?” she says, her voice squeaking like a dolphin. Oliver nods and she smiles. It makes his heart feel too big, like the Grinch at the end of the book. Her smile is beautiful. Knowing that he’s the one that made her do it is the best feeling in the world. He never wants it to end. 

“I’m Oliver.” 

“Felicity.” 

Felicity. He’s never heard that name before, but he likes it. It’s different and special, like her. 

“Do you want to play?” he asks, pointing over his shoulder at where Tommy is yelling at him from the top of the playset. 

Felicity looks over at the playground and her eyes go wide before she shakes her head. 

“It’s okay to be scared,” he says. “I was scared my first day last year. Are you new here?” 

She nods her head. 

“What class are you in?” he asks. 

“Ms. Rosenbloom’s,” she says and his heart soars. 

“That’s my class!” His smile is so big that his face hurts. “That’s so awesome! I was really sad because Tommy — he’s my best friend — was in Mrs. McHenry’s class and I didn’t think I would have any friends.”

Felicity doesn’t say anything. Which is weird, but it’s okay. Oliver doesn’t mind doing all of the talking. 

“Are you always quiet?” he asks, curious. 

“My dad used to say I never stop talking, but...” She shrugs her shoulders and her face grows sad and Oliver wants to make her smile again. 

“Do you want to sit on the friendship bench with me?” he asks her. She gives him a weird look and he remembers that she’s new. She probably doesn’t know about the bench. “Our school has a bench you can sit on when you want to make new friends. We can sit there and I can be your friend?” 

He really hopes that she says yes. He even crosses his fingers. If she doesn’t want to be his friend, he’s going to be sad. 

“Sure,” she says. 

The two of them walk over to the bench and sit down together. They talk about the cartoons that they both watch and Oliver likes that she watches The Real Ghostbusters. She isn’t like the other boring girls in his class who only talk about princesses and Barbies. She’s awesome. 

When the whistle blows to go inside, Oliver forgets to be sad that he’s not lining up with Tommy. He’s too lost in his conversation with Felicity about the new X-Men show that is starting soon. 

When they get to their classroom, he’s happy to see that they are sitting at the same table together. He’s so happy about it, that he forgets to be mad that Carter is sitting right next to him. They talk all through the day. The other kids tease her for the hole in her shirt and the paint on her jeans. They say her mommy doesn’t have any money, but Oliver doesn’t care. His family has enough money for the both of them. He can buy Felicity a new shirt. He can’t buy the other kids a kind heart. 

Plus, Felicity is smart. Like, really  _ really _ smart. She can do big math already and reads books all by herself without having to sound out most of the words. She reads to him during Rest and Read when he offers her his fruit snacks. He doesn’t even care that they are his favorite ones and he’s a little hungry. 

Felicity likes to talk. She was quiet at first, but now she doesn’t stop talking. It’s okay with Oliver. He likes the sound of her voice. Plus, she’s really funny. He’s already gotten in trouble many times for laughing at one of Felicity’s jokes. 

“Ollie has a girlfriend,” Carter and his friends tease him during PE when the boys go stand by their teacher the girls stand by theirs. 

It’s supposed to make him feel sad, but it doesn’t. Oliver doesn’t like girls. He doesn’t want a girlfriend. But Felicity doesn’t count. She’s not a girl girl. She’s just… Felicity. 

“I’m sad that we’re not in the same class,” Tommy says as they hit a tennis ball back and forth like their PE teacher told them. 

“Yeah,” he says, because he is sad. He likes being with Felicity, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss Tommy. 

“Carter says you wanna marry that new girl.” Tommy looks disgusted. 

“Her name is Felicity,” he says, defensive. He’s had to tell the kids in his class to stop teasing Felicity. He doesn’t want to have to tell Tommy. 

“Okay,” Tommy puts his hands up. “You don’t have to get upset about it.” 

“Why are you talking to Carter anyway?” Oliver asks. “He’s a liar.” 

“He is a liar,” he agrees. “But do you? Wanna marry her?” 

Oliver looks over across the gym to where the girls are practicing their serves. Felicity looks annoyed and it makes him laugh. Still, she’s pretty and she’s awesome. If they got married, she could move in to his house and they could play together everyday. 

“I’d marry her,” he says. 

“Ew,” Tommy says. “If you marry her, you have to kiss her.” 

“Gross!” Oliver sticks his tongue out. “I don’t want to kiss her.” 

His grandma always kisses him when she visits and it’s disgusting. He’s never kissing anyone. Ever. 

“That’s what married people do,” Tommy tells him. “My daddy kisses my mommy every day.”

“Every day?” he asks, his eyes growing wide. 

“Yep.” 

Oliver sighs. He guesses he’s going to have to figure out another way to make sure he can play with Felicity everyday. He likes her, but he doesn’t want to kiss her, so they can’t get married. 

When PE class is over, it’s time to walk back to their classroom and pack their backpacks to go home. Oliver finishes first and waits by Felicity’s cubby while she packs up her bag, listening to her tell him a story about her old school. When she’s ready, he takes the bag from her to carry it for her. It’s something he’s seen his dad do for his mom and it’s something nice he wants to do for her. 

“Where do you live?” he asks her, as the rest of their class finishes getting in line. He’s hoping she lives by him so they can play together after school. 

“Near Casey’s Flowers,” she says, but he has no idea where that is. “It’s not by you. I live in the Glades.” 

One of the girls in their class, Maddy, turns around with her jaw open wide. “My daddy says the Glades is where bad people live.” 

Felicity takes a step back and goes quiet. 

“Felicity isn’t a bad person, so your daddy is wrong,” Oliver says. 

Felicity reaches out and tugs on his sleeve until he looks over at her. “The Glades is where bad people live,” she tells him. 

“What?” he asks, feeling scared for her. 

“It’s where the poor people live,” she says. “And being poor is bad.” 

Oliver shakes his head. He doesn’t believe her. “Money doesn’t buy you happiness.” 

It’s something Raisa tells him all of the time. 

Felicity smiles at him like she did when he couldn’t do that math problem. It makes him frustrated. “What?” 

“You have it,” she says, shaking her head. 

“You can have it,” he tells her. “I’ll give you money.” 

“I don’t want your money, Oliver,” she says. Even as she’s telling him no, his tummy feels warm at the way she says his name. Oliver. Not Ollie or Queen like everyone else. Oliver. 

“I would give it to you,” he says, wanting her to understand that he’s not teasing. 

“I know.” She smiles up at him. 

Their teacher walks them outside.  Antoine greats him almost immediately and Oliver gives him a big hug before introducing him to Felicity. She tells him hello as she tries to take her backpack from him, but Oliver won’t let her have it back. 

“Oliver, I need that,” she says, putting her hands on her hips. 

“I’m not keeping it,” he says. “I’m just gonna carry it for you.” 

“Very chivalrous,” Antoine says, ruffling his hair. 

“What does chivalrous mean?”  Oliver asks. 

“Gallant,” Antoine explains. “Like a knight.” 

Felicity rolls her eyes but Oliver stands a little taller, puffing out his chest. He likes thinking that he’s a knight. 

“Sweetheart! I’m here!” a woman exclaims, pushing her way through the crowd of nannies and drivers. 

“Mommy!” Felicity jumps into her arms. 

Oliver thinks it’s cool that Felicity’s mom has come to pick her up today. Almost nobody’s parents come to get them from school after the first day of kindergarten. 

“How was your first day, Baby Girl?” her mom asks. 

“Good,” she says. Oliver hands her mom Felicity’s backpack and she takes it before doing a double take. 

“And who is this?” her mom asks. 

Oliver shuffles back and forth on his feet, wondering how Felicity is going to introduce him. It puts leaping frogs in his stomach. 

“This is Oliver,” she says, reaching out to hold his hand, something she’s been doing all day. “He’s my friend.” 

Oliver smiles. Friend. Good. He’s glad that he’s not alone in thinking that they are friends. He’s pretty sure they are best friends, but she can just say friend. 

His hand feels warm and sweaty in hers, but he doesn’t let go. He likes holding her hand too much. 

“You made your friend Oliver carry your backpack?” her mom says, sounding like she’s about to laugh. 

“He offered,” Felicity says, shrugging her shoulders. “Bye, Oliver!” 

She let’s go of his hand to wave at him. 

“Bye, Felicity,” he says, finding that he’s sad to see her go home without him. 

Felicity sticks her arms out and before he knows it, she’s standing on her tiptoes to hug him. He’s never hugged anyone before that wasn’t family or Tommy. He’s certainly never hugged a girl before. But as her arms tighten around his neck, Oliver’s arms go around her waist and he holds her tight. It should be weird, but he doesn’t want to let go. The hug makes him feel all good inside. 

“Thank you for protecting me from bullies and sharing your fruit snacks,” she says. Her arms relax around him and he reluctantly let’s go of her so she can step back. “You’re my hero.” 

His face gets hot at her words and he feels like he’s just landed on the moon. 

“Anytime,” he promises. 

“There were bullies?” her mom asks. When Oliver looks up at her, her eyes are wet. 

“It’s okay, Mommy, Oliver saved me,” Felicity says. 

Her mom kneels down in front of him and pulls him into a hug as well. It’s not as nice as the hug he got from Felicity, because his arms can’t fit around her as easily, but it still makes him feel good. 

“Mo-om,” Felicity says, pulling on her mom’s arm until she lets go of Oliver. 

“Sorry, Sweetie,” her mom says to her. “Thank you, Oliver.” 

Oliver shrugs. “You’re welcome.”

Antoine tells them that he’s taking Oliver to the park and asks if they want to join. Oliver is sad when Felicity’s mom says they can’t because she has to go to work. 

When Oliver grows up, he’s never going to work. It sounds stupid. His dad always has to go to work too and he misses all the fun stuff. 

Felicity waves to him and promises to play with him tomorrow morning. Oliver sighs, but waves back. Tomorrow morning will have to do. 

Antoine takes his hand and they walk towards their car. 

“It seems like somebody’s got a crush,” he says. 

“What’s a crush?” Oliver asks. 

“It’s when you want to spend time with somebody and make them your girlfriend because you like them a lot.” 

Oliver thinks about it as Antoine helps him into the car. He thinks about how Felicity had made him feel so happy all day and how his body is still tingling from the hug she gave him just now. 

“Do you have to kiss somebody if they are your girlfriend?” Oliver asks, thinking about what Tommy had told him before about marrying someone. 

“Not if you don’t want to,” he says. 

Oliver nods his head. That’s good news. Because he’s pretty sure he’s got a crush on Felicity Smoak. 

“Hey Antoine, don’t tell anyone, okay?” he says, worried that somebody is going to tease him for it. 

“Whatever you say,” Antoine says. “But just so you know, it’s okay to like girls.” 

“I don’t like girls,” he says, making a face. “I just like Felicity.” 

Antoine whistles. “You’ve definitely got it bad.” 

Oliver shrugs. Nothing about Felicity is bad. It’s impossible. She’s good. When he’s around her, he feels good. It’s nice. 

Oliver can’t wait to play with Felicity tomorrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are love!!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments always welcome and appreciated!


End file.
